e felt a
deep interest in that unfortunate uncle. When his death or the manner of
it was spoken of, my grief would come forth in tears. Living in the old
homestead I frequently heard allusions to him by the neighbors and
persons that worked in the family, much more so than by near relatives.
It seemed the anguish they felt did not allow them to make it the
subject of conversation. Was it not so with your mother?"

Rev. Edward Everett Hale refers in a historical address to the fact that
in his own early days the name of Nathan Hale was seldom mentioned in
his presence. We of to-day can but wish that somewhat of the luster from
the radiant halo that was to encircle his memory and to grow brighter as
the years pass on, might have comforted them. Yet each one of that
sorrowing family has long since learned to rejoice that, as nobly as any
martyr has ever died for his country, their lad went forth into the
eternities.

The poem which follows was published in "Songs and Ballads of the
Revolution," collected by Mr. Frank Moore. It is not known when these
verses first appeared, but they are among the earliest tributes to Hale
after his death. It is thought possible, by some students of
Revolutionary history, that the lines may yet prove valuable in throwing
light upon the manner of Hale's capture and death, as they are probably
based on accounts current at that time of which records have not yet
appeared.

CAPTURE AND DEATH OF NATHAN HALE

(By an unknown poet of 1776)

The breezes went steadily thro' the tall pines,
A-saying "oh! hu-sh!" a-saying "oh! hu-sh!"
As stilly stole by a bold legion of horse,
For Hale in the bush, for Hale in the bush.

"Keep still!" said the thrush as she nestled her young,
In a nest by the road; in a nest by the road;
"For the tyrants are near, and with them appear,
What bodes us no good, what bodes us no good."

The brave captain heard it, and thought of his home,
In a cot by the brook; in a cot by the brook.
With mother and sister and memories dear,
He so gaily forsook; he so gaily forsook.

Cooling shades of the night were coming apace,
The tattoo had beat; the tattoo had beat.
The noble one sprang from his dark lurking place
To make his retreat; to make his retreat.

He warily trod on the dry rustling leaves,
As he pass'd thro' the wood; as he pass'd thro' the wood;
And silently gain'd his rude launch on the shore,
As she play'd with the f