About four months after her first wound she received another severe one, being shot through the shoulder. Her first emotion when the ball entered, she described to be a sickening terror at the probability that her s.e.x would be discovered. She felt that death on the battle-field were preferable to the shame that would overwhelm her, and ardently prayed that the wound might close her earthly campaign. But, strange as it may seem, she escaped this time also unsuspected; and soon recovering her strength, was able again to take her place at the post of duty, and in the deadly conflict. Her immunity was not, however, destined long to continue--she was seized with a brain fever, then prevalent among the soldiers. For the few days that reason struggled against the disease, her sufferings were indescribable; and most terrible of all was the dread lest consciousness should desert her, and the secret she had guarded so carefully be revealed to those around her. She was carried to the hospital, and there could only ascribe her escape to the number of patients, and the negligent manner in which they were attended. Her case was considered a hopeless one, and she perhaps received less attention on this account. One day the physician of the hospital, inquiring--"How is Robert?" received from the nurse in attendance the answer--"Poor Bob is gone." The doctor went to the bed, and taking the hand of the youth supposed dead, found that the pulse was still feebly beating; attempting to place his hand on the heart, he perceived that a bandage was fastened tightly around the breast. This was removed, and to his utter astonishment he discovered a female patient where he had least expected one!

This gentleman was Dr. Binney, of Philadelphia. With a prudence, delicacy and generosity, ever afterwards warmly appreciated by the unfortunate sufferer, he said not a word of his discovery, but paid her every attention, and provided every comfort her perilous condition required. As soon as she could be removed with safety, he had her taken to his own house, where she could receive better care. His family wondered not a little at the unusual interest manifested for the poor invalid soldier.

Here occurred another of those romances in real life, which in strangeness surpa.s.s fiction. The doctor had a young and lovely niece, an heiress to considerable property, whose compa.s.sionate feelings led her to join her uncle in bestowing kindness on the friendless youth. Many censured the uncle's imprudence in permitting them to be so much in each other's society, and to take drives so frequently together. The doctor laughed to himself at the warnings and hints he received, and thought how foolish the censorious would feel when the truth should come out.

His knowledge, meanwhile, was buried in his own bosom, nor shared even with the members of his family. The niece was allowed to be as much with the invalid as suited her pleasure. Her gentle heart was touched by the misfortunes she had contributed to alleviate; the pale and melancholy soldier, for whose fate no one seemed to care, who had no possession in the world save his sword, who had suffered so much in the cause of liberty, became dear to her. She saw his grat.i.tude for the benefits and kindness received, yet knew by intuition that he would never dare aspire to the hand of one so gifted by fortune. In the confiding abandonment of woman's love, the fair girl made known her attachment, and offered to provide for the education of its object before marriage. Deborah often declared that the moment in which she learned that she had unwittingly gained the love of a being so guileless, was fraught with the keenest anguish she ever experienced. In return for the hospitality and tender care that had been lavished upon her, she had inflicted pain upon one she would have died to shield. Her former entanglement had caused no uneasiness, but this was a heart of a different mould; no way of amends seemed open, except confession of her real character, and to that, though impelled by remorse and self-reproach, she could not bring herself. She merely said to the generous girl, that they would meet again; and, though ardently desiring the possession of an education, that she could not avail herself of the n.o.ble offer. Before her departure, the young lady pressed on her acceptance several articles of needful clothing, such as in those times many of the soldiers received from fair hands. All these were afterwards lost by the upsetting of a boat, except the shirt and vest Robert had on at the time, which are still preserved as relics in the family.

Her health being now nearly restored, the physician had a long conference with the commanding officer of the company in which Robert had served, and this was followed by an order to the youth to carry a letter to General Washington.

Her worst fears were now confirmed. From the time of her removal into the doctor's family, she had cherished a misgiving which sometimes amounted almost to a certainty, that he had discovered her deception. In conversation with him she anxiously watched his countenance, but not a word or look indicated suspicion, and she had again flattered herself that she was safe from detection. When the order came for her to deliver a letter into the hands of the Commander-in-chief, she could no longer deceive herself.

There remained no course but simple obedience. When she presented herself for admission at the head-quarters of Washington, she trembled as she had never done before the enemy's fire. Her heart sunk within her: she strove in vain to collect and compose herself, and, overpowered with dread and uncertainty, was ushered into the presence of the Chief.

He noticed her extreme agitation, and, supposing it to proceed from diffidence, kindly endeavored to re-a.s.sure her. He then bade her retire with an attendant, who was directed to offer her some refreshment, while he read the communication of which she had been the bearer.

Within a short time she was again summoned into the presence of Washington. He said not a word, but handed her in silence a discharge from the service, putting into her hand at the same time a note containing a few brief words of advice, and a sum of money sufficient to bear her expenses to some place where she might find a home. The delicacy and forbearance thus observed affected her sensibly. "How thankful," she has often said, "was I to that great and good man who so kindly spared my feelings! He saw me ready to sink with shame; one word from him at that moment would have crushed me to the earth. But he spoke no word--and I blessed him for it."

After the termination of the war, she married Benjamin Gannett, of Sharon. When Washington was President, she received a letter inviting Robert Shirtliffe, or rather Mrs. Gannett, to visit the seat of government. Congress was then in session, and during her stay at the capital, a bill was pa.s.sed granting her a pension in addition to certain lands, which she was to receive as an acknowledgment for her services to the country in a military capacity. She was invited to the houses of several of the officers, and to parties given in the city; attentions which manifested the high estimation in which she was there held.

HOSPITALITY OF ELIZABETH BRANT.

Stranger, whoe'er thou art, securely rest Affianced in my faith, a friendly guest.

POPE.

At the close of the last war, John and Elizabeth Brant, children of the celebrated warrior, took possession of their father's mansion at the head of lake Ontario, and dispensed his "ancient hospitalities." While making the tour of Canada West with two of his daughters, in 1819, James Buchanan, Esq., British consul for the port of New York, visited the "Brant House," and afterwards published the following interesting account in a small volume of Indian sketches:

"After stopping more than a week under the truly hospitable roof of the Honorable Colonel Clarke, at the Falls of Niagara, I determined to proceed by land, round lake Ontario, to York; and Mrs. Clarke offered to give my daughters a letter of introduction to a Miss Brant, advising us to arrange our time so as to sleep and stop a day or two in the house of that lady, as she was certain we should be much pleased with her and her brother. Our friend did not intimate, still less did we suspect, that the introduction was to an Indian prince and princess. Had we been in the least aware of this, our previous arrangements would all have given way, as there was nothing I was more anxious to obtain than an opportunity such as this was so well calculated to afford, of seeing in what degree the Indian character would be modified by a conformity to the habits and comforts of civilized life.

"Proceeding on our journey, we stopped at an inn, romantically situated, where I determined to remain all night. Among other things, I inquired of the landlord if he knew the distance to Miss Brant's house, and from him I learned that it was about twenty miles farther. He added, that young Mr. Brant had pa.s.sed that way in the forenoon, and would, no doubt, be returning in the evening, and that, if I wished it, he would be on the lookout for him. This I desired the landlord to do, as it would enable me to intimate our introduction to his sister, and intention of waiting on her the next morning.

"At dusk Mr. Brant returned, and, being introduced into our room, we were unable to distinguish his complexion, and conversed with him, believing him to be a young Canadian gentleman. We did not, however, fail to observe a certain degree of hesitation and reserve in the manner of his speech. He certainly expressed a wish that we would do his sister and himself the favor of spending a few days with them, in order to refresh ourselves and our horses: but we thought his style more laconic than hospitable. Before candles were brought in our new friend departed, leaving us still in error as to his nation.

"By four o'clock in the morning we resumed our journey. On arriving at the magnificent sh.o.r.es of lake Ontario, the driver of our carriage pointed out, at the distance of five miles, the house of Miss Brant, which had a very n.o.ble and commanding aspect; and we antic.i.p.ated much pleasure in our visit. Young Mr. Brant, it appeared, unaware that with our carriage we could have reached his house so soon, had not arrived before us; so that our approach was not announced, and we drove up to the door under the full persuasion that the family would be apprised of our coming. The outer door, leading to a s.p.a.cious hall, was open. We entered and remained a few minutes, when, seeing no person about, we proceeded into the parlor, which, like the hall, was for the moment unoccupied. We therefore had an opportunity of looking about us at our leisure. It was a room well furnished, with a carpet, pier and chimney gla.s.ses, mahogany tables, fashionable chairs, a guitar, a neat hanging bookcase, in which, among other volumes, we perceived a Church of England Prayer Book, translated into the Mohawk tongue. Having sent our note of introduction in by the coachman, and still no person waiting on us, we began to suspect (more especially in the hungry state we were in) that some delay or difficulty about breakfast stood in the way of the young lady's appearance. I can a.s.sure my readers that a keen morning's ride on the sh.o.r.es of an American lake is an exercise of all others calculated to make the appet.i.te clamorous, if not insolent. We had already penetrated into the parlor, and were beginning to meditate a farther exploration in search of the pantry, when, to our unspeakable astonishment, in walked a charming, n.o.ble-looking Indian girl, dressed partly in the native and partly in the English costume. Her hair was confined on the head in a silk net, but the lower tresses, escaping from thence, flowed down on her shoulders. Under a tunic or morning dress of black silk was a petticoat of the same material and color, which reached very little below the knee. Her silk stockings and kid shoes were, like the rest of her dress, black. The grace and dignity of her movement, the style of her dress and manner, so new, so unexpected, filled us all with astonishment. With great ease, yet by no means in that commonplace mode so generally prevalent on such occasions, she inquired how we found the roads, accommodations, etc. No flutter was at all apparent on account of the delay in getting breakfast; no fidgeting and fuss-making, no running in and out, no idle expressions of regret, such as 'Oh! dear me! had I known of your coming, you would not have been kept in this way!' but, with perfect ease she maintained conversation, until a squaw, wearing a man's hat, brought in a tray with preparations for breakfast. A table-cloth of fine white damask being laid, we were regaled with tea, coffee, hot rolls, b.u.t.ter in water and ice-coolers, eggs, smoked beef, ham, broiled chickens, etc., all served in a truly neat and comfortable style. The delay, we afterwards discovered, arose from the desire of our hostess to supply us with hot rolls, which were actually baked while we were waiting. I have been thus minute in my description of these comforts, as they were so little to be expected in the house of an Indian.

"After breakfast Miss Brant took my daughters out to walk, and look at the picturesque scenery of the country. She and her brother had previously expressed a hope that we would stay all day; but, though I wished of all things to do so, and had determined, in the event of their pressing their invitation, to accept it, yet I declined the proposal at first, and thus forfeited a pleasure which we all of us longed in our hearts to enjoy; for, as I afterward learned, it is not the custom of any uncorrupted Indian to repeat a request if once rejected. They believe that those to whom they offer any mark of friendship, and who give a reason for refusing it, do so in perfect sincerity, and that it would be rudeness to require them to alter their determination or break their word. And as the Indian never makes a show of civility but when prompted by a genuine feeling, so he thinks others are actuated by a similar candor. I really feel ashamed when I consider how severe a rebuke this carries with it to us who boast of civilization, but who are so much carried away by the general insincerity of expression pervading all ranks, that few, indeed, are to be found who speak just what they wish or know. This duplicity is the effect of what is termed a high state of refinement. We are taught so to conduct our language that others cannot discover our real views or intentions. The Indians are not only free from this deceitfulness, but surpa.s.s us in another instance of good breeding and decorum, namely, of never interrupting those who converse with them until they have done speaking; and then they reply in the hope of not being themselves interrupted. This was perfectly exemplified by Miss Brant and her brother; and I hope the lesson my daughters were so forcibly taught by the natural politeness of their hostess will never be forgotten by them, and that I also may profit by the example."

Elizabeth was the youngest daughter of Joseph Brant. She was married to William Johnson Kerr, a gentleman who bore a commission in the last war, and fought against the Americans on the Niagara frontier. He is a grandson of Sir William Johnson. The author of American Border Wars, wrote in 1843, as follows: "Mrs. Kerr, as the reader must infer from what has been previously said respecting her, was educated with great care, as well in regard to her mental culture as her personal accomplishments. With her husband and little family, she now occupies the old mansion of her father, at the head of lake Ontario; a n.o.ble situation, as the author can certify from personal observation."

BRIEF ANECDOTES.

The worthy acts of women to repeat.

MIRROR FOR MAGISTRATES.

Immediately after the dreadful ma.s.sacre of Virginia colonists, on the twenty-second of March, 1622, Governor Wyat issued an order for the remainder of the people to "draw together" into a "narrow compa.s.s;"[91]

and most of the eighty plantations were forthwith abandoned. Among the persons who remained at their homes, was Mrs. Proctor, whom Dr. Belknap calls "a gentlewoman of an heroic spirit."[92] She defended her plantation against the Indians a full month, and would not have abandoned it even then, had not the officers of the colony obliged her to do so.

[91] Belknap.

[92] American Biography, vol. 2, p. 182.

One of the best women of her times was Experience West, wife of the Rev.

Dr. West, who was pastor of a church in New Bedford, Ma.s.sachusetts, for nearly half a century. Her life abounded in praiseworthy, though unrecorded, deeds. The Doctor was aware of the worth of his "help-meet," and had a punning way of praising her which must have sounded odd in a Puritan divine a hundred years ago. She was unusually tall, and he sometimes remarked to intimate friends, that he had found, by _long Experience_, that it is good to be married.

The Rev. Dr. Mather Byles, of Boston, a tory of considerable notoriety, paid unsuccessful addresses to a young lady who subsequently gave her hand to a gentleman of the name of Quincy. Meeting her one day, the Doctor remarked: "So, madam, it appears that you prefer a Quincy to Byles." "Yes," she replied, "for if there had been any thing worse than _biles_, G.o.d would have afflicted Job with them."[93]

[93] A Sabine's American Loyalist. The loyal divine was himself a wicked punster. "Near his house, in wet weather, was a very bad slough. It happened that two of the selectmen who had the care of the streets, driving in a chaise, stuck fast in this hole, and were obliged to get out in the mud to extricate their vehicle. Doctor Byles came out, and making them a respectful bow, said; 'Gentlemen, I have often complained to you of this nuisance without any attention being paid to it, and I am very glad to see you stirring in the matter now.' On the celebrated dark day in 1780, a lady who lived near the Doctor, sent her young son with her compliments, to know if he could account for the uncommon appearance. His answer was: 'My dear, you will give my compliments to your mamma, and tell her that I am as much in the dark as she is.'"

A married Shawnee woman was once asked by a man who met her in the woods, to look upon and love him: "Oulman, my husband, who is forever before my eyes, hinders me from seeing you or any other person."

While the husband of Mrs. Dissosway, of Staten island, was in the hands of the British, her brother Nathaniel Randolph, a Captain in the American army, repeatedly and greatly annoyed the tories; and they were anxious to be freed from his incursions. Accordingly, one of their colonels promised Mrs. Dissosway to procure her husband's release, if she would prevail upon her brother to leave the army. She scornfully replied: "And if I could act so dastardly a part, think you that General Washington has but one Captain Randolph in his army?"

When, by permission of the British authorities, the wife of Daniel Hall was once going to John's island, near Charleston, to see her mother, one of the king's officers stopped her and ordered her to surrender the key of her trunk. On her asking him what he wished to look for, he replied, "For treason, madam." "Then," said she, "you may be saved the trouble of search, for you may find enough of it at my tongue's end."[94]

[94] Major Garden.

When a party of Revolutionary patriots left Pleasant River settlement, in Maine, on an expedition, one of the number forgot his powder horn, and his wife, knowing he would greatly need it, ran twenty miles through the woods before she overtook him.

When the village of Buffalo was burnt during the last war, only one dwelling-house was suffered to stand. Its owner, Mrs. St. John, was a woman of wonderful courage and self-possession; and when the Indians came to fire it, and destroy its inmates, she ordered them away in such a dignified, resolute and commanding, yet conciliatory, manner, that they seemed to be awed in her presence, and were kept at bay until some British officers rode up and ordered them to desist from the work of destruction. Saved by her presence of mind and heroic bravery, she who saw her neighbors butchered at their doors and the young village laid in ashes, lived to see a new village spring up, phoenix-like, and expand into a city of thirty-five thousand inhabitants.

Mrs. Beckham, who resided in the neighborhood of Pacolet river, South Carolina, was a true friend of freedom, and a great sufferer on that account. Tarleton, after sharing in her hospitality, pillaged her house, and then ordered its destruction. Her eloquent remonstrance, however, caused him to recall the order. Concealing a guinea in her braided hair, she once went eighty miles to Granby, purchased a bag of salt, and safely returned with it on the saddle under her.[95]

[95] Vide Women of the Revolution, vol. I, p. 296.