aced by three armies,
menaced, by the five nations of the great confederacy--the Iroquois.

To return to the sea islands on the Halifax and fight for my own acres
was useless if through New York the British armies entered to the heart
of the rebellion, splitting the thirteen colonies with a flaming wedge.

At home I had no kin to defend; my elder brother had sailed to England,
my superintendent, my overseers, my clerks were all Tory; my slaves
would join the Minorcans or the blacks in Georgia, and I, single-handed,
could not lift a finger to restrain them.

But here, in the dire need of Tryon County, I might be of use. Here was
the very forefront of battle where, beyond the horizon, invasion,
uncoiling hydra folds, already raised three horrid, threatening crests.

Ugh!--the butcher's work that promised if the Iroquois were uncaged! It
made me shudder, for I knew something of that kind of war, having seen a
slight service against the Seminoles in my seventeenth year, and
against the Chehaws and Tallassies a few months later. Also in November
of 1775 I accompanied Governor Tonyn to Picolata, but when I learned
that our mission was the shameful one of securing the Indians as British
allies I resigned my captaincy in the Royal Rangers and returned to the
Halifax to wait and watch events.

And now, thoughtful, sad, wondering a little how it all would end, I
paced to and fro across the porch. The steady patter of the dew was like
the long roll beating--low, incessant, imperious--and my heart leaped
responsive to the summons, till I found myself standing rigid, staring
into the darkness with fevered eyes.

The smothered, double drumming of a guitar from the distant revel
assailed my ears, and a fresh, sweet voice, singing:

"As at my door I chanced to be
A-spinning,
Spinning,
A grenadier he winked at me
A-grinning,
Grinning!
As at my door I chanced to be
A grenadier he winked at me.
And now my song's begun, you see!

"My grenadier he said to me.
So jolly,
Jolly,
'We tax the tea, but love is free,
Sweet Molly,
Molly!'
My grenadier he said to me,
'We tax the tea, but love is free!'
And so my song it ends, you see,
In folly,
Folly!"

I listened a