THE HESPERIAN.
"llorsc-shoc Robinson" is a talc of the American Rcvolu
tion, by John P. Kennedy. It is written in that easy, ro
mantic, style of which Cooper is the best example, and re
minds one continually of that author. Perhaps the only merit
of the work, beyond that of a rather interesting love story , is
the prominence it gives to that usually slighted character, the
southern Ranger. All of our histories, it is true, in dealing
with the Revolution, mention Marion and Sumptcr, but none
of them emphasize strongly enough the influence exerted
throughout the struggle by the indomitable men who
followed these leaders.
We Americans, with our proverbial self-appreciation, have
had, for some time, and the rest of the world is beginning to
have, a true appreciation of the importance of the American
Revolution. In the same proportion as the new regime, of
which it was the beginning, increases in importance, minor
events become significant and valuable, and perhaps this
will justify us in giving some little attention to a class which
our histories have so far considered hardly worth repeated
mention. "Ilorsc-shoc Robinson" is a characteristic southern
Ranger of '76, powerfully built, and with the perfect har
mony of mind and body, in rapid action, which a woodman's
life produces. In his numerous contests with the Tories,
both his mental acutcness and his physical prowess were in
valuable to him. He represents, in short, the better qualities
of those men who sustained our almost hopeless cause in the
South, and well illustrates the total self-reliance which
helped them so much, cither in victory or defeat. Washing
ton's men at Braddock's defeat furnish the stock example of
the ability to take care of themselves which so strongly char
acterized the Colonials, and yet Marion's men furnish many
examples just as patent. I remember that among the books
which used to delight my youthful heart, before I could tell
the difference between the Revolution and the Rebellion, or
understood why it was all right to be a "rebel" in one case
and not in the other, there was one which painted in glowing
colors the deeds of Sumptcr and his brave men, but since
that time I have seen nothing which gave me so clear an idea
of the importance of these Rangers as "Ilorsc-shoe Robin
son." The book is thoroughly American in tone; so of course
the Continentals arc all right and the British all wrong.
Major Butler, an American officer, furnishes part of the
material for the love-story and Mildred Lindscy, the daughter
ol an American gentleman whose sympathies are with the
king, supplies the remainder. The stem father insists on
looking with disfavor upon the suit of the "rebel" major,
f.iid wishes his daughter to marry an English officer, all of
which, in accordance with the best rules of romantic compo
sition, furnishes the obstacles which prevent the course of
true love from running smooth. Major Duller, too, wears
around his neck a miniturc portrait of his loved one , which
he takes out and gazes fondly at a certain number of times
rach day, and when he thinks he is to be shot as a spy he
implores his executioners not to mind him but spare his min
iturc and bury him with it still next his heart everything
you sec, as it should be.
It has always seemed to me that it would be a delightful
thing to be in love like that. Just imagine the satisfaction it
must be to a man to have some fair creature think there is no
'body in the world like him, and hang on his every word as if
he were an oracle. It wuuld be bliss enoueh in times of
peace, but add war and the pleasant contingency of being
killed or wcunded any moment, with the natural and demon
strative rejoicing on the part of the young lady when he isn't
killed (fo of course no well regulated hero would think
of getting killed), and you' have a degree of bliss scarcely
conceivable. And yet there arc people who cannot sec the
beauties in a romantic love story.
A STORY FROM LIFE.
The rain beat against the window of a lawyer, s office in
Y vith every gust of the wind. It was nearly midnight.
Gloom shrouded the city. In the lawyer's office it was cheerless.
Dimly burned the lamp, and in its feeble light a strange
scene was being enacted. A gentleman apparently thirty
two years of age was wrapping a convict's suit of clothes into
a bundle. Near him stood a younger man dressed in rough
clothes that were apparently new. Gazing into the counte
nance of the two men, one needed not to be told that the
younger had just exchanged the suit of a convict for the dress
of a citizen. The one who was forming the bundle, was a
lawyer. After stowing the bundle into a closet, he turned to
the younger man, grasped his hands and said earnestly,
"Dick, if you do escape, promise me before God that you
will lead an entirely diflerenl life." "I promise," said 'the
one addressed as Dick. "You know where I intend to go.
If I reach the place 1 will tell you. Scud Nell and the baby
to me immediately. Perhaps I can keep steady then. Will
you scud them?" "I will," said the lawyer. "Now go, and
above all don't be caught. You have money. Risk any
thing rather than recapture. I know I am incriminating my
self by doing this, but for the sake of the times when we
were boys, I have helped you. Hoard the train going west
at two o'clock. Good bye. Remember." The younger
man grasped the lawyer's hand and turned away, struggling
with his emotion. At the door he turned, gave one glance
back, then, with set lips, went down and out into the rain
and darkness.
Five ye.ys before Dick A had come to Y . In three
years he h. id become one of the leading young men of the
city. He had married one whom he had known from child
hood up, and he had brought her with him to his new home.
In two years more Dick A was on trial for his life. Husi
ness troubles drove him, first to the cup, then to the gaining
table. One night Dick A was lodged in prison accused of
murder, and a companion of his was carried home in a dying
condition.
No need to relate the circumstances. A drunken melee
and its results. Those who were comparatively sober dc
clarcd that Dick A was the murderer. They were the fre
quenters of the place in which the murdei occurred and
many doubted their statement. Dick A - could remember
nothing, but solemnly declared that his hand had not struck
the blow. He could not tell what he had done that evening
but something within him had urged him to deny the crime
with a vehemence and earnestness that was wonderful. But
the chain of evidence bound him to a murder's fate. During
his trial, John M , the friend of his youth, had defended
Dick A with an intensity of purpose rarely equalled. He
had exhausted measure and expedient in vain, and though a
burning, eloquent plea had convinced many of the listeners
in the court room that Dick A was innocent, still the jury
said "guilty in the second degree."
The prison gates had clanged behind Dick A; wife and
baby were separated from him. Thenceforth all the happi
ness and joy of life for him was blighted.
Three months passed, and Dick A- was free. By means
.hat were not honorable as regards the conduct of a prison
official, Dick A- escaped. It was barely dark when he
reached the home of John M-. He dared not go to his
own home, much as he longed to see his wife and child.
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