



Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S

YOUNG PEOPLE

AN ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY.]

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VOL. I.--NO. 24. PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK. PRICE FOUR
CENTS.

Tuesday, April 13, 1880. Copyright, 1880, by HARPER & BROTHERS. $1.50
per Year, in Advance.

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[Illustration: MISS NANCY TAKES LEAVE OF THE OFFICERS.]

NANCY HANSON'S PROJECT.

BY HOWARD PYLE.


It was in the old Quaker town of Wilmington, Delaware, and it was the
evening of the day on which the battle of Brandywine had been fought.
The country people were coming into town in sledges, and in heavy low
carts with solid wheels made of slices from great tree trunks, loaded
with butter, eggs, milk, and vegetables; for the following day was
market-day. Market-day came every Fourth-day (Wednesday) and every
Seventh-day (Saturday). Then the carts drew up in a long line in Market
Street, with their tail-boards to the sidewalk, and the farmers sold
their produce to the town people, who jostled each other as they walked
up and down in front of the market carts--a custom of street markets
still carried on in Wilmington.

Friend William Stapler stopped, on his way to market in his cart, at
Elizabeth Hanson's house, in Shipley Street, to leave a dozen eggs and
two pounds of butter, as he did each Tuesday and Friday evening.
Elizabeth came to the door with a basket for half a peck of potatoes.
William Stapler took off his broad-brimmed hat, and slowly rubbed his
horny hand over his short-cut, stubbly gray hair.

"Ah! I tell thee, Lizabeth, they're a-doin' great things up above
Chadd's Ford. I hearn th' canning a-boomin' away all day to-day. Ah,
Lizabeth, the world's people is a wicked people. They spare not the
brother's blood when th' Adam is aroused within them. They stan' in
slippery places, Lizabeth."

"Does thee think they're fighting, William?"

"Truly I think they are. Ah! I tell thee, Lizabeth, they're differen' 'n
when I was young. Then we only feared the Injuns, 'n' now it's white men
agin white men. They tuck eight young turkeys of mine, 'n' only paid me
ten shillin' fer 'em."

"But, oh, William, I do hope they're not fighting! I expect my
son-in-law, Captain William Bellach, and his friend Colonel Tilton, will
stop here on their way to join General Washington; and they may arrive
to-night."

"Ah, Lizabeth, I've lifted up my voice in testimony agin the young men
goin' to the wars an' sheddin' blood. 'F a man diggeth a pit an' falleth
into it himself, who shall help him out thereof? Half a peck o'
potatoes, did thee say, Lizabeth?"

       *       *       *       *       *

During the evening rumors became more exciting, and it was said that the
Americans had been defeated, and were retreating toward Philadelphia.
Late that night Captain Bellach and Colonel Tilton arrived at Elizabeth
Hanson's house.

"I've heard the rumors, mother," said Captain Bellach. "I don't believe
'em; but even if there was a file of British at the door here, I would
be too tired to run away from them."

Pretty Nancy Hanson spoke up. "But, Billy, they would not only send thee
and thy friend to the hulks if they caught thee, but they might be rude
to us women were they to find thee here."

"Yes, sister-in-law, if I thought there was any danger, I would leave
instantly; but the British, even if they have beaten us, will be too
tired to come here to-night."

"I agree with my friend Will, Mistress Nancy," said Colonel Tilton.
"Moreover, our horses are too tired to take us farther to-night."

About two o'clock in the morning the silence of the deserted streets of
the town was broken by a rattling and jingling of steel, the heavy,
measured tread of feet, and sharp commands given in a low voice.

Nancy Hanson awakened at the noise, and jumping out of bed, ran to the
window and looked out into the moon-lit street beneath. A file of
red-coated soldiers were moving by toward the old Bull's Head Tavern.
The cold moonlight glistened on their gun-barrels and bayonets as they
marched. Nancy ran to her mother's room and pounded vigorously on the
door.

"Mother! mother! waken up!" she cried; "the British are come to town,
sure enough!"

The family were soon gathered around the dull light of a candle, the
gentlemen too hastily awakened to have their hair _en queue_, the ladies
in short gowns and petticoats; Elizabeth Hanson wore a great starched
night-cap perched high upon her head.

"You were right, sister-in-law," said Captain Bellach, "and I was wrong.
The best thing we can do now is to march out and take our chances."

"So say I," assented the Colonel.

"It's all well enough for thee, Billy, to talk of marching out and
taking thy chances," said Nancy; "thee has thy black citizen's dress;
but Colonel Tilton is in uniform."

"True; I forgot."

"It does not matter," said the Colonel.

"Yes, but it does," cried Nancy. "Stay now until morning, and I think I
can get thee citizen's clothes. I have a project, too, to get thee off.
For mother's sake, though, we must hide thy uniform, for if it is found
here, she will be held responsible. Billy, thee will have to go with thy
friend back to the bedroom and bring us his things as soon as he can
take them off. Thee must lie abed, Colonel Tilton."

Nancy's plans were carried into execution. The bricks in one of the
up-stairs fire-places were taken up, the sand beneath them removed, and
the Colonel's uniform deposited in the vacant place, over which the
bricks were carefully replaced.

       *       *       *       *       *

In the gray of the morning Peggy Allison and Hannah Shallcross, on their
way to market, each with a basket on her arm, met in front of Elizabeth
Hanson's house. A company of soldiers had halted in Shipley Street, and
their arms were stacked before Elizabeth's door. The red-coated soldiers
were lounging and talking and smoking. Some officers sat around a fire
near by warming their hands, for the morning was chill.

"'Tis a shame!" said Hannah Shallcross, vigorously--"'tis a shame to see
these redcoats parading our streets as bold as a brass farthing. I only
wish I was John Stedham the constable; I'd have 'em in the
Smoke-House[1] or the stocks in a jiffy, I tell thee!"

She spoke loudly and sharply. A young British officer, who was passing,
stepped briskly up, and tapped her on the arm.

"Madam," said he, "do you know that you are all prisoners? Be advised by
me, and return quietly home until the town is in order."

However patriotic Hannah might be, she did not think it advisable to
disregard this order, and both dames retreated in a flutter. As the
young officer stood looking after them, the house door opposite him
opened, and Nancy Hanson appeared upon the door-step. She had dressed
herself carefully in her fine quilted petticoat and best flowered
over-dress, and looked as pretty and fresh as an April morning.

"Friend," said she, in a half-doubtful, half-timid voice. The young
officer whipped off his cocked hat, and bent stiffly, as you might bend
a jackknife.

"Madam, yer servant," he answered. He spoke with a slight brogue, for he
was an Irish gentleman.

"We have a friend with us," said Nancy, "who hath been compelled for a
time to keep his bed. He was brought here last night on account of the
battle, and was too weary to go further. Our neighbor Friend John
Stapler, across the street, hath thick stockings, and I desire to get,
if I can, a pair from him, as, thee may know, in cases of dropsy the
legs are always cold. I am afraid to cross the street with these
soldiers in it. Would thee escort me?"

"Madam, you do me infinite honor in desiring me escort," said the young
officer, bowing more deeply than before; for Nancy was very pretty.

Friend John Stapler was a very strict Friend, and as such was inclined
to favor the royalist side; still, he was willing to do a kindly turn
for a neighbor. He was a wrinkled, weazened little man, whose face, with
its pointed nose and yellowish color, much resembled a hickory nut.

"Hum-m-m!" ejaculated he, when Nancy, who had left the officer at the
door, stated the case to him--"hum-m-m! thus it is that intercourse with
the world's people defileth the chosen. Still, I may as well help thee
out o' the pother. Hum-m-m! I suppose my small-clothes would hardly be
large enough, would they?" and he looked down at his withered little
legs.

"I hardly think so," said Nancy, repressing a smile, as she pictured to
herself the tall dignified Colonel in little John Stapler's
small-clothes.

"Well, well," said he, "I'll just step out the back way, and borrow a
suit from John Benson. He's the fattest man I know."

He soon returned with the borrowed clothes, which they wrapped up in as
small a bundle as possible, after which Nancy rejoined the officer at
the door.

"'Tis a largish bundle of stockings," observed he, as he escorted her
across the street again.

"They are thick stockings," she answered, demurely.

When they reached home, she invited her escort and his brother officers,
who were gathered around the fire near by, to come in and take a cup of
coffee--an offer they were only too glad to accept, after their night
march.

"Gentlemen," said Nancy, as they sat or stood around drinking their hot
coffee, "I suppose you have no desire to retain our afflicted friend a
prisoner? The doctor, who is with him at present, thinks it might
benefit him to be removed to the country. I spoke to my friend whom I
saw this morning, and he promised to send a coach. May he depart
peaceably when the coach comes?"

"Faith," said the young Irish officer, "he may depart. He shall not be
molested. I command here at present."

"What is the matter with the invalid?" inquired another officer.

"He appeareth to have the dropsy," answered Nancy, gravely.

In about half an hour an old-fashioned coach, as large as a small
dwelling-house, and raised high from the ground on great wheels,
lumbered up to the door. The steps were let down, or unfolded, until
they made a kind of step-ladder, by which the passenger ascended to the
coach which loomed above. The door stuck, in consequence of being
swelled by the late rains, and was with difficulty opened. The officers
stood around, waiting the appearance of the invalid, and the young
Irishman who had been Nancy's escort waited at the door to help her in,
for she was to accompany her afflicted relative to the ferry.

The house door opened, and she appeared, bearing a pillow and blanket to
make the sick man comfortable. She arranged these, and stepped back into
the house to see him moved. Then, with a shuffling of feet, the
pretended victim of dropsy appeared, dressed in plain clothes, and so
enormously puffed out that there was scarcely room for him in the
passageway. The so-called doctor, dressed in black, and wearing a pair
of black glass spectacles, assisted the invalid on one side, and Nancy
supported him on the other. The dropsical one groaned at every step, and
groaned louder than ever as they pushed, squeezed, and crowded him up
the steps and into the coach. Nancy and the doctor followed, and the
Irish officer put up the steps and clapped to the door, while Nancy
smiled a farewell through the window to him as the great coach rumbled
away toward the Christiana River.

"Oddzooks!" exclaimed one of the officers, "that is the fattest Quaker I
ever saw."

He would have been surprised if he had seen the fat Quaker draw a stout
pillow from under his waistcoat after the coach had moved away, while
the doctor stripped some black court-plaster from the back of his
spectacles, and instead of the invalid and the physician appeared two
decidedly military-looking gentlemen.

The coach and its occupants had lumbered out of sight for some time, and
the young officer still remained lounging near the door of Mistress
Hanson's house, when an orderly, splashed with mud from galloping over
yesterday's battle-field, clattered up to the group.

"Which is Major Fortescue?" he asked, in his sharp military voice.

"I am," answered the young Irish officer.

"Order for you, sir;" and he reached the Major a folded paper, sealed
with a blotch of wax as red as blood. He opened it, and read:

     "You will immediately arrest two men, officers in the rebel army,
     known respectively as Colonel Tilton and Captain Bellach.
     Information has been lodged at head-quarters that they are now
     lying concealed at Mistress Elizabeth Hanson's in Wilmington town.
     You will report answer at once. By order of

  Colonel ROBERT WYCHERLY, R. A.,
  Com. 5th <DW37>. H. M. A.
  in the Province of Pennsylvania.

  To Major ALLAN FORTESCUE,
  Commander at Wilmington,
  in the Lower County of Newcastle."[2]

"Stop them!" roared Major Fortescue, as soon as he could catch his
breath. He gave a sharp order to the soldiers lounging near; they seized
their arms, and the whole party started at double quick for the ford of
the Christiana River, half a mile away, whither the coach had directed
its course.

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Meanwhile the fugitives had arrived at the bank of the river, where they
found that the ferryman was at the other side, and his boat with him. He
was lying on the stern seat, in the sun, and an empty whiskey bottle
beside him sufficiently denoted the reason of his inertia. When the
Colonel called to him, he answered in endearing terms, but moved not;
and when the officer swore, the ferryman reproved him solemnly. Affairs
were looking gloomy, when Captain Bellach, who had been running up and
down the embankment that kept the river from overflowing the marsh-lands
that lay between it and the hill on which the town stood, gave a shout
which called the Colonel and Nancy to him. They found that he had
discovered an old scow half hidden among the reeds; it was stuck fast in
the mud, and it was only by great exertions that the two gentlemen
pushed it off the ooze into the water. The Colonel then took Nancy in
his arms, and carried her across the muddy shore to the boat, where he
deposited her; then pushing off the scow, he leaped aboard himself.

"Lackaday for my new silk petticoat, all spotted and ruined!" cried
Nancy. "I'd rather have been taken prisoner at once!" And she looked
down ruefully upon the specks of blue marsh mud that had been splashed
upon that garment.

Neither of the men answered. The boat leaked very badly when it was
fairly out in the water, and the Colonel was forced to bail it out with
his hat. The Captain sat in the middle of the boat, paddling it with a
piece of board. His hat had blown off, and his black silk small-clothes
were covered with mud. The tide was running strongly, and as the boat
drifted down the stream, it was swung round and round in spite of the
Captain's efforts to keep it straight, while the leak gained on them,
until Nancy, with a sigh, was compelled to take her best beaver hat,
ribbons and all, and help the Colonel bail.

They were scarcely more than half across when Major Fortescue and his
squad of soldiers dashed up to the bank. They ran along the embankment,
keeping pace with the boat as it drifted with the tide.

"Halt!" cried the officer; but no one in the boat answered. "Halt, or I
shoot!" But Captain Bellach only paddled the harder.

"Make ready! Take aim!--"

"Down, for your life!" cried Colonel Tilton, sharply, dragging Nancy
down into the bottom of the boat, where Captain Bellach flung himself
beside them. It was the work of a moment. The next instant--"Fire!" they
heard the royalist order, sharply, from the bank.

"Cra-a-a-ack!" rattled the muskets, and the bullets hummed venomously
around the boat like a swarm of angry hornets.

None of the fugitives were hurt, though two of the bullets struck the
side of the boat; but Nancy's petticoat was entirely ruined by the mud
and water in the bottom. Before the redcoats could reload, they had
reached the further shore, and run into a corn field near by, in which
they were entirely hidden. Captain Bellach wanted to go up the stream
and thrash the drunken ferryman; but the Colonel and Nancy dissuaded
him, and they made the best of their way to Dover, which they reached
after a very weary journey. There Nancy, who considered it safer to
absent herself from home while the British retained possession of
Wilmington, found herself the heroine of the hour; and she was feted and
dined and made much of, until