viously, Arnold, the panic-stricken traitor of the drama, had fled like a felon.

After disembarking at King's Ferry, near Stony Point, they set off for Tappan under the escort of a body of horse. As they approached the Clove, a deep defile in the rear of the Highlands, Andre, who rode beside Tallmadge, became solicitous to know the opinion of the latter as to what would be the result of his capture, and in what light he would be regarded by General Washington and by a military tribunal, should one be ordered. Tallmadge evaded the question as long as possible, but being urged to a full and explicit reply, gave it, he says, in the following words: "I had a muchloved classmate in Yale College, by the name of Nathan Hale, who entered the army in 1775. Immediately after the battle of Long Island, General Washington wanted information respecting the strength, position, and probable movements of the enemy. Captain Hale tendered his services, went over to Brooklyn, and was taken, just as he was passing the outposts of the enemy on his return; said I with emphasis--'Do you remember the sequel of the story?''Yes,' said Andre. 'He was hanged as a spy! But you surely do not consider his case and mine alike?'-'Yes, precisely similar; and similar will be your fate.'"*

*The fate of the heroic youth here alluded to deserves a more ample notice. Born in Coventry, Connecticut, Juno 6, 1755, he entered Yale College in 1770, and graduated with some distinction in September, 1773, having previously contracted an engagement of marriage; not unlike Andre in this respect, who wooed his "Honora" at eighteen. On quitting college he engaged as a teacher, as is common with young men in New England while studying for a profession. His half-formed purpose was to devote himself to the ministry. As a teacher of youth he was eminently skillful, and equally appreciated by parents and pupils. He became uni

"He endeavored," adds Tallmadge, "to answer my remarks, but it was manifest he was more troubled in spirit than I had ever seen him before."

"We stopped at the Clove to dine and let the horse guard refresh," continues Tallmadge. "While there, Andre kept reviewing his shabby dress, and finally remarked to me that he was positively ashamed to go to the headquarters of`the American army in such a plight. I called my servant and directed him to bring my dragoon cloak, which I presented to Major Andre. This he refused to take for some time; but I insisted on it, and he finally put it on and rode in it to Tappan."

The place which had been prepared to receive Major Andre is still pointed out as the "76 Stone House." The cau

versally popular. "Everybody loved him," said a lady of his acquaintance, "he was so sprightly, intelligent and kind, and so handsome.'

He was teaching at New London when an express arrived, bringing tidings of the outbreak at Lexington. A town meeting was called, and Hale was among the most ardent of the speakers, proposing an instant march to the scene of hostilities, and offering to volunteer. "A sense of duty, writes he to his father, "urges me to sacrifice everything for my country."

He served in the army before Boston as a lieutenant; prevailed on his company to extend their term of service by offering them his own pay, and for his good conduct received from Congress the commission of captain. He commanded a company in Colonel Knowlton's regiment in the following year. After the disastrous battle of Long Island, Washington applied to that officer for a competent person to penetrate the enemy's camp, and procure intelligence of their designs; a service deemed vital in that dispiriting crisis. Hale, in the ardor of patriotism, volunteered for the unenviable enterprise, though fully aware of its peril, and the consequences of capture.

Assuming his old character as schoolmaster, he crossed the Sound at night from Norwalk to Huntington on Long

tion which Washington had given as to his safe keeping was strictly observed by Colonel Scammel, the adjutant-general, as may be seen by his orders to the officer of the guards.

"Major Andre, the prisoner under your guard, is not only an officer of distinction in the British army, but a man of infinite art and address, who will leave no means unattempted to make his escape, and avoid the ignominious death which awaits him. You are, therefore, in addition to your sentries, to keep two officers constantly in the room with him, with their swords drawn, while the other officers who are out of the room are constantly to keep walking the entry and around the sentries, to see that they are alert. No person whatever to be permitted to enter the room, or speak with him, unless by direction of the commander-in-chief.

Island, visited the British encampments unsuspected, made drawings of the enemy's works, and noted down memoranda in Latin of the information he gathered, and then retraced his steps to Huntington, where a boat was to meet him and convey him back to the Connecticut shore. Unfortunately a British guard-ship was at that time anchored out of view in the Sound, and had sent a boat on shore for water. Hale mistook it for the expected boat, and did not discover his mistake until he found himself in the hands of enemies. He was stripped and searched, the plans and memoranda were found concealed in the soles of his shoes, and proved him to be a spy.

He was conveyed to the guard-ship, and thence to New York, where he was landed on the 21st September, the day of the great fire. He was taken to General Howe's headquarters, and, after brief parley with his judge, ordered for execution the next morning at daybreak-a sentence carried out by the provost-marshal, the brutal and infamous Cunningham, who refused his request for a Bible, and destroyed a letter he had addressed to his mother, for the reason afterward given by himself, "that the rebels should never know they had a man who could die with such firmness." His patriot spirit shone forth in his dying words-"I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country."