The war was ended in all but the name. A treaty of peace had not yet, however, been concluded between the government of Great Britain and her rebellious --- because liberty-loving --- child. The greater part of the army of Washington proceeded north-ward, soon after the capture of Cornwallis; and after a great many movements from place to place, we find them, on the 31st of August, 1783 encamped at Verplanck's Point, on the Hudson River, opposite Stony Point. The troops were improving greatly in discipline and appearance, under the able management of the commander-in-chief, and all were in the best spirits.

It was a lovely moonlight night --- such as September, in its early stage, alone can furnish. The white tents of the encampment, arranged in parallel lines, presented a singular sight to the distant spectator, while the lonely sentinels, removed from their companions, could not but enjoy the cool air, and the beauty of the night. Some of the tent-doors were pushed aside, to admit the light of the sweet lamp of heaven, to serve in the place of dimmer, yet more glaring, luminaries. From these, the hum of conversation or the voice of song issued upon the night. To one of them we turn our attention, and record what is said and done. Three officers are seated upon their cmp-stools, at a common-looking table, passing the time in the joviality inspired by the rosy liquid they imbibe from their well-filled glasses. Crackers and cheese added their comforting influence of the carousal, serving to make the fire more substantial. The accoutrements of the three were thrown upon the floor; alongside of the table, were a pitcher of water and a bottle of champagne, waiting till its predecessor upon the table should be emptied. One of the officers was evidently older than the other two, and had seen harder service, --- judging from his appearance. The other two were in the full bloom of manhood.

"Now, Morton, tell us one of your stories" said the youngest of the officers, to the oldest. "We are just in the humor for it."

"I suppose I have told you about Charlie Morgan; haven't I?"

"Never heard you," was the reply.

"Well, then, I'll tell you, now, all I know about Charlie."

Here the speaker, as is customary among story-tellers, about to begin, took a drink, assumed an easy posture, and commenced: ---

Charlie Morgan, the son of a respectable farmer in Jersey, one day took it into his wide head to "'list."

"Mother," said he, "I want to 'list in the army."

"Lord o'marcy!" exclaimed the old woman, putting up her hands, and, in her astonishment, dropping her stocking, (to the great delight of a sly kitten, who immediately seized upon it,) "what? Do you want to be a soger?"

"Yes, I do," answered Charlie.

"And go away and leave your poor mother, and your old daddy?"

"Why, mother, it is for the good of you both, that I want to go. I shall earn a heap of money."

Here he "put the case" in the most tempting manner to the old lady; who, when she had in some measure recovered from her astonishment, promised to speak to her "old man," and to persuade him into giving his consent to Charlie's wishes. Her son put on his hat, and stepped to the cottage door.

"But, my boy," said his mother, "there's Jenny, --- what'll she say?"

Now, Charlie Morgan, who was as fine-looking a specimen of a rustic as ever walked the ground, with black eyes, under a quantity of curling brown hair, a tall, stalwart figure, and erect walk, had found favor in the sight of Jenny Commel, a pretty, blue-eyed damsel of eighteen, the daughter of his next-door neighbor; and his sudden determination to enlist was the result of an attack of jealousy.

"Never you mind, mother," said he, in reply to her last question, "I'll settle matters with Jenny."

Whereupon, he walked into the garden, out of the gate, up the gravel walk of the next yard, and finally stood still, opposite Miss Jenny, who was industriously spinning, at her door.

"Good afternoon, Miss Commel," said Charlie, stiffly. "I did not expect to find you at home; I thought you would certainly be out taking a pleasant walk with George Cobert, the dunce."

"George Cobert's no dunce!" answered Jenny, firing up; "he's a brave man, and a good soldier; not a man to stay at home, working on a farm, when his country's suffering!"

"The deuce!" thought Charlie. "I'm in a fair way of 'biting off my nose, to spite my face." Jenny likes this soldiering."

"Besides," continued Jenny, "you wasn't very far wrong in your guess; he'll be here directly, to take me to ride."

"The devil!" exclaimed Charlie; who straightway put on his hat, strode out of the garden, and enlisted that very evening, and set out for the army, without so much as informing Jenny of his intentions, or bidding her good-bye. He joined the Jersey brigade, and proving a good soldier, attracted the attention of General Lafayette. That officer, in the course of movements on the James River, being anxious to procure exact information as to the force under Cornwallis, proposed to Charlie Morgan, and to George Cobert, that one of them should enter the British camp, in the character of a deserter, in order to spy out their plans. Charlie undertook the perilous enterprise; merely stipulating that, if he was detected and hanged as a spy, General Lafayette would cause it to be inserted in the Jersey newspapers, that he had acted under the orders, and according to the commands, of that officer.

Escaping the dangers of the journey, the pretended deserter succeeded in passing the British lines, and was conducted into the presence of Cornwallis. That general, seated in his tent, began to question Charlie.

"My good fellow," said he, "why did you desert the American army?"

"Oh, your lordship," replied Charlie, "when I first entered the American army, at the beginning of the war, i was put under George Washington's command, and I was satisfied to serve under him; but, now that they have gone and put me and the rest under the command of the Frenchman, Mister Lafayette, there, I did not like it at all; and that's why I deserted."

"Then I suppose you want to enter this army, and serve us, and fight for oour cause?" asked Cornwallis.

"Yes, if it please your lordship, I should like it exceedingly," answered Charlie.

"Very well; I will receive you," replied Cornwallis; and Charlie was accordingly received without suspicion. He was punctual and exact in discharging his duties as a British soldier, and meantime very carefully observed and treasured up in his remembrance all that passed around him. Nothing was suffered to escape his quick observation. One day, while he was on duty with his comrades, the British soldiers, Lord Cornwallis, who was in earnest conversation with some of his officers, called to Charlie, and when he approached, asked him.

"How long, my good fellow, do you think it will take Lafayette to cross the James River?"

"Three hours, your lordship," was the quick reply.

"Three hours!" ejaculated Cornwallis; "are you sure? I should have supposed that it would have required at least three days."

"Oh! bless your soul, no! your lordship," answered Charlie. "The General, there, has so many boats; each boat will carry so many men; and if your lordship will merely take the trouble and time to calculate all that, you will come to the conclusion that he can cross in three hours, instead of three days, your lordship."

At the conclusion of this speech of Charlie's, Lord Cornwallis turned to his officers, and, in the hearing of the young American, said, "Our scheme will not answer at all, then."

Charlie Morgan now resolved to abandon his new friends; and, in order to escape, he determined to ply his companions with liquor, until they should be in high spirits, from the effects of the grog.

"What will you take to drink?" said he to some of them, one day.

"Oh, we'll go and 'grog,' " answered they.

"Well, come along," said Charlie; who accordingly gave them all, four in number, as much as they could drink; and when he had succeeded in somewhat clouding heir intellectual faculties, and lessening their reasoning powers, he began to complain of the wants of the British troops, and to paint in glowing colors the luxuries enjoyed by the American army; extolling the kindness of the officers, the privileges granted to the soldiers, and, above all, tickling the appetites of his comrades, by a glowing description of the abundant and excellent provisions; and, in conclusion, he proposed to them to desert. They agreed to accompany him, and left it to him to manage the sentinels. This, Morgan agreed to do. When he reached the first sentinel, he offered him, in an apparently friendly manner, a draught of rum from his canteen.

"Here, take a drink," said Charlie, offering him the canteen.

"Thank you; that's just what I was wishing for," replied the man, taking the canteen from Morgan's hand; but while he was drinking, Charlie seized his arms, and then proposed to him to desert with him and his companions; which proposition the man was obliged to accept, from necessity. Arrived at the next sentinel's post, Charlie served him in the same way; and he, too, fell into the snare, and accepted his proposals. The third sentinel shared the same fate; and when Charlie arrived at the American camp, his 'suite' consisted of seven British deserters! On his presenting himself before Lafayette, to whom he was immediately conducted, the General exclaimed,

"Well, my good friend, Charlie Morgan! Have you got back?"

"Oh, yes, here I am at last, please your excellency, and I have brought seven more with me."

"Ah, indeed," said Lafayette; "where are they?"

"Here, your excellency," replied Charlie; "if you will just step out to the front of your tent, I'll show them to you."

"The General, accordingly, on leaving the tent, was shown the seven British deserters, who composed Charlie's retinue. General Lafayette offered Charlie money. "No, I thank your excellency," replied he; sturdily declining any pecuniary recompense for his important services; merely requesting to be allowed to resume his position in the company.

"But, my good fellow," said Lafayette, "would you not like to be raised to the rank of corporal?"

"No, I thank your excellency; I am content to be what i am in the American army --- a common soldier."

"Perhaps the rank of sergeant may have some attractions for you, then?" persisted the General.

"No, your excellency," was the reply; "I will not have any promotion. I have abilities and talents as a common soldier, and I have as such a good character; should I be promoted, my abilities m ay not answer to my rank; and then, you know, I may lose my former character. There is, however," continued Charlie, "one request which I would make of your excellency; and that is, that my fellow deserters here," pointing to the British soldiers, "may have shoes, stockings, and under garments, and jackets, provided for them, as well as for myself."

This request was straightway granted; and the General gave orders that all the wants of the deserters, as well as Charlie's, should be attended to, and suppplied.

Charlie Morgan served a long time in the army; but after this first exploit, married the pretty Jenny Commel, with great rejoicing. That was a merry wedding. I danced at it; and Jenny makes Charlie a good wife.

Here the narrator ceased.

"Now it's your turn," said the second officer, addressing the third, "to continue to our entertainment. Will you favor us with some story?"

"Willingly," replied Wethering, the officer thus addressed. "I am sensible that I am about to repeat a thrice-told tale; but there's so much appearance of romantic gallantry in Colonel Barton's exploit, that I trust I shall be pardoned for making still another effort to keep it in view of all who delight to give to patriotic enterprise the applause which is its due. Sometime in July, 1777, Lieutenant-Colonel Barton, having received information that Major-General Prescott, who commanded the Brtish and foreign troops, on Rhode Island, had established his head-quarters at a country house, at some distance from the main body of his army, resolved on the attempt to bring him off as his prisoner. To accomplish his purpose, thirty-eight men were selected from the line; who, being embarked in live boats, set out on the expedition. The task they had to perform was difficult and dangerous. The British posts on the island were many and strong, and reported to be ever on the alert; while a considerable naval armament protected it, on every side, from invasion. The ships and guard-boats being passed in the dead of the night, with muffled oars, and no discovery made, Lieutenant-Colonel Barton landed his party; and having first secured the sentinel, entered the General's apartment, and took him from his bed. His aid-de-camp made a desperate attempt to escape, by leaping from a window; but he was pursued, and speedily secured, also. Expedition was not only necessary, but essential for safety. A large body of dragoons lay in the neighborhood; and signal-rockets, discharged in the air from different quarters, showed that a general alarm had already spread. Every comfort was afforded the prisoners, that circumstances would allow; and Lieutenant-colonel Barton had, at early dawn, the good fortune to land them in safety, after a passage of ten miles, at the spot, within the American lines, from which he had set out.

"I remember, many years since, to have heard a highly-respectable clergyman say, that, in the year 1746, he resided on the post road between Culloden and Aberdeen; and that, in the evening of the day on which the battle was fought, on which the fate of the empire depended, he had received into his house an English officer, from the South, hastening to join the Duke of Cumberland's army. During the night the aid-de-camp, carrying the news of victory to London, demanded hospitality also; and fully relating the extent of the triumph over the forces of the Pretender, the Englishman exclaimed, 'Would to Heaven I had that formidable rebel, Gordon of Glenbucket, as my prisoner! I would hasten him up in a cage, and carry him through England, as a show; where his terrific name had made such an impression, that there is not a clown throughout the country, who does not believe that he eats one child, at least, for his morning's breakfast! I should speedily make a most ample fortune.' I was present when a particular friend of my own, sometime after Colonel Barton's successful expedition, addressing him with a very serious air, said, 'I wish, my dear Barton, that I had you caged, that I might show you as the hero who made prisoner the renowned and formidable British general, Prescott. I would ask no better income than income than the cash that would be received from the exhibition.' The Colonel appeared delighted at the thought; and I seriously believe, if a cage had been in preparation, he would have cheerfully stepped into it, for the pleasure of enjoying the wonder and astonishment that would have been displayed, when the gaping spectators discovered he was but a man."

The third officer, a young man named Wallace, was then called upon for a story, and gave the following: ---

"At a convivial meeting, (at which the healths of the captors of Andre had been drunk, and a toast proposed to the memory of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins, who achieved the capture of Joseph Bettys, a notorious traitor and spy.) the venerable Colonel Ball, who presided, made the statement which follows: --- 'During the war of the Revolution, I was an officer in a New York line, in the regiment commanded by Colonel Wynkoop. Being acquainted with Bettys, who was a citizen of Ballstou, and knowing him to be bold, athletic, and intelligent in an uncommon degree, I was desirous of obtaining his services for my country, and succeeded in enlisting him as a sergeant. He was afterwards reduced to the ranks, on account of some insolence to an officer, who he said had abused him without a cause. Knowing his irritable and determined spirit, and unwilling to lose him, I procured him the rank of sergeant, in the fleet commanded by General Arnold, (afterwards a traitor,) on Lake Champlain, in .76. Bettys was in that desperate fight, which took place in the latter part of the campaign, between the British and American fleets on that lake; and being a skilful seaman, was of signal service during the battle. He fought until every commissioned officer on board his vessel was killed or wounded, and then assumed the command himself, and fought with such reckless courage, that General Waterbury, who was second in command under Arnold, perceiving that the vessel was likely to sink, was obliged to order Bettys, and the remainder of his crew, on board his own vessel; and having noticed his extraordinary bravery and conduct, he stationed him on the quarter-deck, by his side, and gave orders through him; until the vessels becoming altogether crippled, the men mostly killed, himself wounded, and only three officers left, the colors were struck to the enemy. General Waterbury afterwards told my father, that he never saw a man behave with such deliberate desperation as Bettys. And the shrewdness of his management showed that his conduct was not inferior to his courage. After the action, Bettys went to Canada, --- turned traitor to his country, --- received an ensign's commission in the British army, --- became a spy, --- and proved himself a most dangerous and subtle enemy. He was at length arrested, tried, and condemned to be hung at West Point.

But the entreaties of his aged parents, and the solicitations of influential whigs, induced General Washington to pardon him, on promise of amendment. But it was in vain. The generosity of the act only added rancor to his hatred; and the whigs of that section of the country, especially of Ballston, had deep occasion to remember the traitor, and to regret the unfortunate lenity they had caused to be shown him. He recruited soldiers for the King, in the very heart of the country. He captured and carried off the most efficient and zealous patrols, and subjected them to the greatest suffering; and those against whom he had particular malice, lost their dwellings by fire, or lives by murder; and all this, while the British commander kept him in employ, as a faithful and most successful messenger, and a cunning and intelligent spy. No fatigue wearied his resolution, no distance was an obstacle to his purpose, and n o danger appalled his courage. No one felt secure. Sometimes, in the darkness of the night, he came by stealth upon us; and sometimes, in the middle of the noonday, he was prowling about, as if unconscious of danger. He boldly proclaimed himself a desperado --- that he carried his life in his hand --- that he was as careless of it as he should be of that of others, should they undertake to catch him --- that his liberty was guarded by his life; and whoever should undertake to deprive him of it, must expect to mingle their blood with his. And it was well understood, that what Bettys said, Bettys meant; and as well ascertained, that when he came among us, to perpetrate his mischief, he generally brought with him a band of refugees, and concealed them in the neighborhood, to assist him to accomplish his purposes. Still, there were many who resolved on his apprehension, be the danger what it might; and many ineffectual attempts were made for that purpose. But he eluded all their vigilance, till sometime in the winter of '81-82, when a suspicious stranger was observed in the neighborhood, in snowshoes, and well armed. Cory and Fulmer, on information from Perkins, immediately armed themselves, and, with the latter, proceeded in pursuit. They traced him, by a circuitous track, to the house of a tory, and then, by a sudden effort, bursting open the door, rushed upon him and seized him, before he had an opportunity of effecting any resistance. He was at his meal, with his pistols lyng on the table, and his rifle resting on his arm; he made an attempt to discharge the latter; but not having taken the precaution to undo the deerskin cover that was over the lock, did not succeed. He was then pinioned so closely, that to resist was useless, and to escape impossible. And the notorious Bettys, cheated of all his threats, and foiled in his most particular resolution, was obliged to yield himself a tame and quiet prisoner to the daring of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins. He asked leave to smoke; which being granted, he took out his tobacco, and, with something else, when unobserved as he hoped, he threw it into the fire. Cory, however, saw it, and immediately snatched it out with a handful of coals. It was a small leaden box, about an eighth of an inch in thickness, and contained a paper in cipher, which they could not read; but it was afterwards discovered to be a despatch to the British commander at New York, and also an order for thirty pounds sterling, on the Mayor of New York, should the despatch be safely delivered. Bettys begged leave to burn it, but was refused; he offered them a hundred guineas if he might be allowed to do it; but they steadily refused. He then said, 'I am a dead man,' but continued to entreat them to allow him to escape. He made the most liberal offers --- a part of which he had present means to make good; but they refused to listen to him. He was then taken to Albany, tried, convicted, and executed as a spy and traitor to his country; and the only reward these daring men ever received for their hazardous achievement, was the rifle and pistols of Bettys! The conduct of the captors of Andre was noble; but hat of the captors of Bettys was both noble and heroic. Andre was a gentleman, and without the means of defense. Bettys was fully armed, and known to be a desperado. The capture of the former was by accident; that of the latter, by enterprise and design. That of the former, without danger; that of the latter, at the imminent peril of life. Andre was a more important, but, perhaps, not a more dangerous man than Bettys. Both tempted their captors with all-seducing gold, and both were foiled. And Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart, though venerated in the highest degree by me, as having exhibited a trait of character honorable to the reputation of their country, have not, in my estimation, claims to celebrity superior to those of Fulmer, Cory and Perkins.' The President having concluded, the toast was drunk, amidst the most thundering applause."

"Such applause, in fact," continued Wallace, "as I deserve from you," (turning to his companions,) "for my story."

His companions gave him "three rounds," and then, after discussing the merits of the respective captors of Andre and Bettys, and also finishing another bottle of champagne, the three officers retired to their quarters.