ve my imperfections and forget you
ever had affection for one so unworthy the name of

"YOUR OWN SEX."

No means of sending this letter presented itself, however, and after a
dreary wandering, Deborah was enabled to rejoin her soldier friends.
Then she proceeded to Baltimore for the express purpose of seeing her
girl admirer and telling her the truth. Yet this time, too, she evaded
her duty, and left the maiden still unenlightened, with a promise to
return the ensuing spring--a promise, she afterward declared, she had
every intention of keeping, had not the truth been published to the
world in the intervening time.

Doctor Bana had been only deferring the uncloaking of "Robert
Shurtleff." Upon Deborah's return to duty, he made the culprit herself
the bearer of a letter to General Patterson, which disclosed the
secret.

The general, who was at West Point at the time, treated her with all
possible kindness, and commended her for her service, instead of
punishing her, as she had feared. Then he gave her a private apartment,
and made arrangements to have her safely conducted to Massachusetts.

Not quite yet, however, did Deborah abandon her disguise. She passed the
next winter with distant relatives under the name of her youngest
brother. But she soon resumed her proper name, and returned to her
delighted family.

After the war, she married Benjamin Gannett, and the homestead in
Sharon, where she lived for the rest of her life, is still standing,
relics of her occupancy, her table and her Bible, being shown there
to-day to interested visitors.

[Illustration: GANNETT HOUSE, SHARON, MASS.]

In 1802 she made a successful lecturing tour, during which she kept a
very interesting diary, which is still exhibited to those interested by
her great-granddaughter, Mrs. Susan Moody. Her grave in Sharon is
carefully preserved, a street has been named in her honour, and several
patriotic societies have constituted her their principal deity.
Certainly her story is curious enough to entitle her to some
distinction.

THE REDEEMED CAPTIVE

Of all the towns settled by Englishmen in the midst of Indians, none was
more thoroughly peaceful in its aims and origin than Deerfield, in the
old Pocumtuck Valley. Here under the giant trees of the primeval forest
the whitehaired Eliot prayed, and beside the banks of the sluggish
stream he gathered as nucleus for the town the roving s