village. Into the rear of the sleigh a big basket was packed. Becca
was told that she must not ask any questions nor peep, so she
neither questioned nor looked in, but found out, after all, for when
they were come to the camp, she saw her mother take out loaves of rye
bread and a jug, into which she knew nothing but milk ever was put, and
carry them into a hut which had the sign of a hospital over it. Every
third cabin was a hospital, and each and every one held within it
men that were always hungry and in suffering.

In all her life Becca had never seen so much to make her feel
sorry, as she saw when she followed her mother to the door of the
log-hospital, into which she was forbidden to enter.

There large-eyed, hungry men lay on the cold ground, with only poor,
wretched blankets to cover them. She caught a glimpse of a youth--he
did not seem much older than her own Jack--with light, fair hair, such
big blue eyes, and the thinnest, whitest hands, reaching up for the
mug of milk her mother was offering to him.

Then, when Jack came to her, he was wiping his eyes on his jacket
sleeve. He said "If I was a soldier, and my country didn't care any
more for me than Congress does, I'd go home and leave the Red Coats to
carry off Congress. It's too bad, and he's a jolly good fellow. Wish
we could take him home and get him well."

"Who is he, Jack?"

"O, a soldier-boy from one of the New England colonies. He's got a
brother with him--that's good."

The drive home, over the crisp snow, was a very silent one. More than
one tear froze on Mrs. Blackstone's cheek, as she remembered the
misery her eyes had beheld, and her hands could do so little to
lighten.

The next day Mr. Blackstone reached home from Philadelphia. He had
seen the Britons in all the glory and pomp of plenty and red
regimentals in a prosperous city. He returned a confirmed Tory, and
wished--never mind what he did wish, since his unkind wish never came
to pass--but this is that which he did, he forbade Mrs. Blackstone
to give anything that belonged to him to a soldier of General
Washington's army.

"What will you do now, mamma, with all the stockings and mittens you
are knitting?" questioned Becca.

"Don't ask me, child," was the tearful answer that mother made, for
her whole heart was with her countrymen in their brave struggle.

Three nights after that time Mr. Blackstone entered his house,
saying:

"I caught a ragged, bare-footed tatterdemalion h