The reader may imagine the poignancy of Mildred's emotions as she sat beside Allen Musgrove and his daughter on the knoll and watched the busy and stirring scene before her. The center division of the assailing army was immediately in her view on the opposite face of the mountain, and no incident of the battle in this quarter escaped her notice. She could distinctly perceive the motions of the Amherst Rangers, to whom she turned her eyes with a frequent and eager glance as the corps with which her brother Henry was associated, and when, the various fortune of the fight disclosed to her the occasional retreat of her friends before the vigorous sallies of the enemy or brought to her ear the renewed and angry volleys of musketry, she clenched Mary Musgrove's arm with a nervous grasp and uttered short and anxious ejaculations that showed the terror of her mind.
"I see Mister Henry yet," said Mary, as Campbell's troops rallied from the last shock, and again moved towards the summit. "I see him plainly, ma'am—for I know his green dress and caught the glitter of his brass bugle in the sun. And there now—all is smoke again. Mercy, how stubborn are these men! And there is Mister Henry once more—near the top. He is safe, ma'am."
"How earnestly," said Mildred, unconsciously speaking aloud as she surveyed the scene, "Oh. how earnestly do I wish this battle was done! I would rather, Mr. Musgrove, be in the midst of yonder crowd of angry men, could I but have their recklessness, than here in safety to be tortured with my present feelings."
"In God is our trust, madam," replied the miller. "His arm is abroad over the dangerous paths, for a shield and buckler to them that put their trust in him. Ha! there is Ferguson's white horse rushing, with a dangling rein and empty saddle, down the mountain through Campbell's ranks; the rider has
