ng, because, that day, a new nation was born;
over Staten Island Sound, by the light of the moon, strong-armed men
were ferrying home the girl and the boy, who that day _had_ fought a
good fight and gained the victory.

At home, in the Kull cottage, the mother waited long for the
coming of the children. She said; "Poor young things! _Mine own
children_--they _shall_ have a nice supper." She made it ready and
they were not come.

Farmer Rycker's wife and daughter came over to tell and hear the news,
and yet they were not come.

Sundown. No children. The Kull father came up from his fishing and
heard the story.

"The Red Coats have taken them," he said, and down came the
musket from against the wall, and out the father marched and made
straightway for the headquarters of General Howe, over at the
present "Quarantine."

Then the mother, left alone in the soft summer gloaming, fell on her
knees and told her story in her own plain speech to her good Father in
Heaven.

It was a long story. She had much to say to Heaven that night. The
mothers and wives of 1776 in our land spake often unto God. This
mother listened and prayed, and prayed and listened.

The fishermen had left Valentine and Anna on the shore and gone home.
Tired, but happy, the brother and sister went up, over sand and field
and slope, and so came at length within sight of the trees that
towered near home.

"Whistle now!" whispered Anna, afraid yet to speak aloud. "Mother will
hear and answer."

Valentine whistled.

Up jumped the mother Kull. She ran to the door and tried to answer.
There was no whistle in her lips. Joy choked it.

"Mother, are you _there_?" cried the children.

"No! I'm _here_," was the answer, and she had them safe in her arms.

PATTY RUTTER: THE QUAKER DOLL WHO SLEPT IN INDEPENDENCE HALL.

Patty Rutter had fallen asleep with her bonnet on, and had been lying
there, fast asleep, nobody knew just how long; for, somehow--it
happened so--there was nobody in particular to awaken her; that is to
say, no one had seemed to care though she slept on all day and all
night, without ever waking up at all.

But then, there never had been another life quite like Patty Rutter's
life. In the first place, it had a curious reason for beginning at
all; and nearly everything about it had been as unlike your life and
mine as possible.

In her very baby days, before she walked or talked, she had been sent
away to live with strangers,