At the barrack yard in Montreal, Prescott, the British brigadier, asked him,

hero as he. He never was in the Continental service again although congress conferred the title of lieu

"I am the very man," quoth Allen.

Then Prescott in great rage called him a rebel and other hard names, and raised his cane. Allen shook his fist and said,

was appointed general of the Vermont forces, that people having declared themselves an independent state and having erected a state government. Then he became the agent of the state to gain admission to the union of the colonies, which was not

"You shall grace a halter at Tyburn," said Prescott, with an oath.

The renown of his exploit at Ticonderoga cost him dear in prolonged imprisonment, severe usage, hardships, humiliation, and disappointed ambition.. He was handcuffed, shackled to a heavy bar of iron, and thrown into the hold of a vessel at Quebec. He was sent to England handcuffed and confined in Pendennis castle until the spring of 1776, then sent to Halifax and confined in jail until autumn and then was chiefly on parole in New York, but sometimes in a New York prison until May, 1778, when he was exchanged for Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell. Thus, after two years and eight months of irksome captivity he regained his Vermont home, and was received all along the route with tumultuous joy.

Washington's presidency and after Allen's death.

After the peace he lived a quiet life of retirement. During this period he wrote an extravagant "Compendious System of Natural Religion," denying the tenets of the Christian faith, but not atheistic in its views, and passed among orthodox Christians as a free thinker and an infidel. An eccentric freak of his mind is said to have been a belief in transmigration of souls, and that he had formerly lived on earth as a white horse.

He was blunt, honest, of purest virtue and sternest integrity. He wielded a facile pen and wrote voluminously, if not scholarly. His was a trenchant pen, if not well regulated or systematic. He was the devoted servant of the Vermont people, and their fearless defender. To his bold leadership and devotion to their cause in their struggles for their rights of property and their political independence we must look for the source of his popularity among his people rather than to his military achievements. He was never self-seeking, but was and is regarded as a sincere patriot, and his statue occupies the most honored place in the state house at Montpelier, Vt.

N one of the highest hills in New Hampshire there stands an old, two-storied farmhouse built long before the days of the Revolution. There are three roads by which this farmhouse may be approached, but all lead over hills so long and steep, and roads so stony and narrow, that few trouble themselves to make the trip. Occasionally a party of summer tourists climb the hills for the pleasure of the magnificent view, glance curiously at this old landmark and pass on, and the old house is left standing almost as solitary as in the days when John Mitchell and Margaret, his wife, builded it, literally, with their own hands.

that the young couple, with all the hope and courage characteristic of those times went bravely forth into the wilderness, took up a large tract of land and made a home for themselves.

Wood and timber were plenty enough, and they were fortunate in securing carpenters to put up the frame of the house and to build a "long hovel" near it. Then, as the harvest time approached, all the laborers deserted them to attend to their own affairs, leaving the young couple with only a long hovel, which was to shelter numerous flocks and herds, that as yet existed only in fancy, and the frame of a large Colonial house.

the freshly sawed boards on their backs, the young man gallantly carrying two, while his wife took one. So the house was boarded, and, in time, completely finished.

It was made after the old Colonial style, two large square rooms in front with a short front entry between, and a long kitchen at the back, while a great chimney was built through the middle of the house. The walls of the two square rooms were wainscoted, and the small paned windows provided with wooden shutters on the inside that could be pushed back into the wall when not in use.

Evidently John Mitchell and his wife were loyal subjects of the king, for in one of these square rooms there still hangs a print of George II, issued by one "John Bonde, Printer, at The Black Horse in Cornhill."

The usual old-fashioned fireplaces were in all the rooms downstairs, with the addition of a brick oven in the kitchen. All this might be found in almost any house of that period, but now comes a strange part of it. Between the front entry and the chimney there is a hidden room, the existence of which would never be suspected by the ordinary observer. It is about nine feet square and perhaps six feet high. Three of the sides are made of brick, one of these being the chimney, while the fourth. is the partition between this room and the front entry. Possibly it was intended as a hiding place from the Indians, or it may have been used as a private madhouse, such things being not uncommon at that time. It could hardly have been meant as a treasure-room, for their valuables could not, at that time, have been so numerous as to have needed so large

a room.

Whatever its purpose, we

shall probably never know. It has been sealed up for nearly fifty years, the present owners, who are direct descendants of the builders, never having had the curiosity to examine it.

The years went by, and John Mitchell and his wife prospered as one would expect such an energetic couple to do. Many children were born to them, John, Charles, and Michael being among the eldest.

The long hovel was supplemented with a barn, and the long-dreamed-of flock, and herds had materialized. All the land for several miles on both sides of the "highway," which went by the house, belonged to them. Then, in the course of time, the sons and daughters married and left their old homes. Charles was the first to go and John soon followed.

Two farms had been set apart from the father's extensive claim for the two eldest sons when they should marry. One on the upper side of the "'way' contained many acres of rich and fertile land, but the one on the lower side, though equally as large, was wet and marshy.

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The sons accepted the farms and built themselves houses which were the exact counterparts of their old home. But, such is the irony of fate, not a vestige of John's house can be seen now, while Charles's stands as firm and as substantial as when it was first built. The brilliant, handsome John, through idleness and drink, lost the large amount of land given him, while Charles, by hard and steady work, at length owned both his farm and John's. This sounds like a chapter from a Sunday-school book; but it is all true. Charles married well and his wife brought many valuable heirlooms with her. One of the most interesting of these is a little, black

the town of Plymouth, but this, as Kipling says, is another story.

Years after, all the sons and daughters had left the old home and John Mitchell and his wife Margaret were alone. One spring Michael, who had made himself a home close at the foot of the longest hill revisited the old homestead.

As he was leaving he stuck a willow wand into the earth in front of the house and said to his mother, "Let it be there, mother. Let it take root and grow, and when you see it you will think of Michael."

Michael's cane is now a gigantic tree, and has given shade to many generations of his descendants, just as the old Colonial house has sheltered them.