would never have robbed us, as some vandal visitor did not long ago, of a saucer and plate belonging to the same set."
"No, no, indeed!" she replied with emphasis, and looking quite aghast at the very idea. "Could anybody be so wicked as that?"
"Somebody was," he said with a slight sigh; "and it has made us feel it necessary to be more careful to whom we show such things. Now let me show you the burial-place of Thomas Lovelace," he added, leading the way out into the grounds.
"I don't remember to have heard his story, sir," said Max, as they all followed in the gentleman's wake; "but I would like to very much indeed. Papa, I suppose you know all about him."
"I presume this gentleman can tell the story far better than I," replied the Captain, with an inquiring look at their guide.
"I will do my best," he said in reply. "You know, doubtless," with a glance at Max and his sister, "what the Tories of the Revolution were. Some of them were the bitterest foes of their countrymen who were in that fearful struggle for freedom, – wicked men, who cared really for nothing but enriching themselves at the expense of others, and from covetousness became as relentless robbers and murderers of their neighbours and former friends as the very savages of the wilderness. Lovelace was one of these, and had become a terror to the inhabitants of this his native district of Saratoga. He went to Canada about the beginning of the war, and there confederated with five other men like himself to come back to this region and plunder, betray, and abduct those who were struggling for freedom from their British oppressors, – old neighbours, for whom he should have felt only pity and kindness, even if he did not see things in just the same light that they did. These miscreants had their place of rendezvous in a large swamp, about five miles from Colonel Van Vetchen's, cunningly concealing themselves there. Robberies in that neighbourhood became frequent, and several persons were carried off. General Stark, then in command of the barracks north of Fish Creek, was active and vigilant; and hearing that Lovelace and his men had robbed General Schuyler's house, and were planning to carry off Colonel Van Vetchen, frustrated their design by furnishing the Colonel with a guard. Then Captain Dunham, who commanded a company of militia in the neighbourhood, hearing of the plans and doings of the marauders, at once summoned his lieutenant, ensign, orderly, and one private to his house. They laid their plans, waited till dark, then set out for the big swamp, which was three miles distant. There they separated to reconnoitre, and two of them were lost; but the other three kept together, and at dawn came upon the hiding-place of the Tory robbers. They were up, and just drawing on their stockings. The three Americans crawled cautiously toward them till quite near, then sprang upon a log with a shout, levelled their muskets, and Dunham called out, 'Surrender, or you are all dead men!' The robbers, thinking the Americans were upon them in force, surrendered at once, coming out one at a time without their arms, and were marched off to General Stark's camp, and given up to him as prisoners. They were tried by a court-martial as spies, traitors, and robbers; and Lovelace, who was considered too dangerous to be allowed to escape, was condemned to be hanged. He complained that his sentence was unjust, and that he should be treated as a prisoner of war; but his claim was disallowed, and he was hanged here amid a violent storm of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning."
"They hung him as a spy, did they, sir?" asked Max.
"As a spy and murderer. He was both; and," pointing out the precise spot, "after his execution he was buried here in a standing posture."
"And his bones are lying right under here are they, sir?" asked Lulu, shuddering as she glanced down at the spot the gentleman had indicated.
"No," was the reply; "his bones, and even his teeth, have been carried off as relics."
"Ugh! to want such things as those for relics!" Lulu exclaimed in a tone of emphatic disgust.
"They are certainly not such relics as I would care to have," returned the gentleman, with a smile. Then he told the Captain he had shown them everything he had which could be called a souvenir of the Revolutionary War, and with hearty thanks they took their leave.
CHAPTER III
It was dinner-time when Captain Raymond and his children reached their hotel, and at the conclusion of the meal they went immediately to the station of the Mount McGregor road. There was just time for the buying of the tickets and seating themselves comfortably in the cars before the train started.
"Papa, how long will it take us to go there?" asked Lulu.
"Thirty-five minutes," he answered. "It is about ten miles to the mountain; then we go up about eleven hundred feet above Saratoga Springs."
"Yes, sir," said Max; "and here on this time-table it says that in some places the grade is as high as two hundred and forty-six feet to the mile."
"Set that down in your memory," returned his father, with a smile. "Now look out of the windows, Max and Lulu; the country is well worth seeing."
The ride seemed very short, – it was so enjoyable, – and Lulu was quite surprised when the car stopped and all the passengers hurried out.
Every one went into the Drexel Cottage, which was close at hand. A man showed them about, pointing out the objects of special interest, – the bed where General Grant died, the candle he had extinguished but a few minutes before breathing his last, and so on.
They spent some time in the cottage, going quietly about, looking with a sad interest at everything which had any connection with the dear departed great man, then went on up to the mountain top, where stood a large hotel. They passed it, and went on to the edge of the mountain, which overlooks the Hudson River valley.
"Oh, what a lovely view!" cried Lulu, in delight. "What mountains are those, Papa?"
"Those to the east," he replied, pointing in that direction as he spoke, "are the Green Mountains, those to the north are the Adirondacks, and those to the south the Catskills."
"Oh, Lu, look yonder!" cried Max. "There's Schuylerville with its monument, I do believe, – isn't it, Papa?"
"Yes, you are right, – the place of Burgoyne's surrender, which we visited this morning," the Captain answered. "Now suppose we go to the observatory at the top of the hotel, and take the view from there."
Max and Lulu gave an eager assent to the proposal. There were a good many stairs to climb, but the view fully repaid them for the exertion. They spent some minutes in gazing upon it, then descended and wandered through the woods till the train was ready to start down the mountain.
Max and Lulu were tired enough to go to bed at dark; and the next morning they took an early train to Albany, where they boarded a fine steamer, which would carry them down the Hudson River to West Point, where, to the children's great delight, their father had promised to stay a day or two, and show them all of historical interest connected with the spot.
It was the first trip on the Hudson that Max or his sister had ever taken, and they enjoyed it greatly, – all the more because their father was sufficiently familiar with the scenes through which they were passing to call their attention to whatever was best worth noticing, and give all desired information in regard to it, doing so in the kindest and pleasantest manner possible. The weather was all that could be desired, – cloudy, with an occasional shower, seldom heavy enough to obscure the view to any great extent, and just cooling the air pleasantly, as Lulu remarked with much satisfaction.
It was not raining when they landed at West Point, though clouds still veiled the sun. They took a carriage near the wharf, and drove to the hotel. As they alighted, some gentlemen were talking upon its porch, one of whom was in military uniform.
"Raymond, this is a meeting as delightful
