colors mounted by the
vessel which had borne away the young pilot. The mother's heart throbbed
as she mentally pictured the determined patriotism of her darling son.
Not merely a fancy and a picture that scene remained.

The two privateers which had given chase to the dismantled British
vessel had an easy victory, and soon brought her triumphantly into
Boston harbor. Hal Hutching's story won him liberty at once. The English
boy had no sooner set foot on land, than he turned his face in the
direction of Fairport. Way-worn and foot-sore he was, when he knocked at
last at Mrs. Robertson's door. Warmth and welcome, love and gratitude
awaited him within. It was his privilege first to tell the mother how
nobly her son had borne himself in the hour of trial, and with what
calmness he had faced the king of terrors. Poor Hal by turns wept and
glowed with enthusiasm, as he dwelt on the praise of his friend, while
the mother's heart welled with deep thankfulness at the mercy which had
so spared and honored her boy.

Many and many a time was Hal Hutchings forced to tell over his story to
auditors of all ages and conditions. The Fairport Guard, formally
assembled, demanded the right of a relation especially for them. Every
young heart beat high, and every eye flashed with kindling pride in
their brave commander, and each one resolved to be, like him, an honor
to his home and country. Like Lycurgus, their leader had given his laws,
then left his followers to be faithful until his return. Anew they
pledged themselves to keep their pure code, and strive to be a body
which Blair Robertson the patriot would not be ashamed to command.

Hal Hutchings meekly bore the reflected honors that were thrust upon
him, and well understood that it was his connection with the absent
Fairport boy which made him such an object of interest. Hal however did
not object to the golden gains which resulted from his new position.
Everybody was ready to give him "a job" now, and his old clothes were
soon exchanged for new ones, bought with his own money and adapted to
his own taste.

Not a day passed that did not see Hal Hutchings at Mrs. Robertson's
door, to lend his strong arm and willing feet to do for her some little
kindness, a true labor of love. When the Sabbath was wearing away, Hal
might be seen moving his coarse finger slowly along the sacred page,
reading holy words, to which Mrs. Robertson from time to time added her
voice of explanation or gen