Towards the close of a pleasant day, in the autumn of 1777, there might have been seen, sitting by a fire, in the camp at Germantown, three veteran officers of the American Army. One appeared, by his attitude and gestures, to be entertaining the other two with a recital of some adventure which he had witnessed. Let us listen to their conversation.

"Ah!" said Captain Peterson, the narrator, "I remember him well --- that brave young soldier, Arthur Stewart. I will tell you what I know of his history; it will serve to pass away the time."

His companions drew their camp-stools nearer the fire, evidently expecting a rare treat; for Captain Peterson was celebrated for his good stories, and was as fond of "spinning a long yarn," as a sailor; but his narratives were generally strictly true.

"Arthur Stewart, poor boy," began the Captain, "was born and reared in the old Bay State --- a State worthy to claim such a native. He manifested, very early in life, a fearless and warlike disposition. He accordingly joined a company of volunteers, at the beginning of the war, in the year '75, and is in the army now, I believe, but I can't tell where he is stationed. When he first enlisted, he was in that division of the army, which was under the command of General Putnam. Captain Wetherbe commanded the company to which he belonged. The captain well understood the warlike merits of the stripling; but Stewart was not personally known to Putnam --- indeed, it would have been more luck and chance, if he had been. He had already signalized himself in two or three hard-fought battles; and, but for his extreme youth, would, at the time of which I am about to speak, have been promoted to therank of ensign, or lieutenant. The incidents which I am about to relate, occurred just on the eve of the battle at White Plains.

"The Brtish army was encamped within two miles of the Americans. The two armies had been watching each other's movements for several days, without coming to a general engagement. At length, one evening, both armies were making the necessary preparations for the night's rest; expecting, on the morrow, to try the precarious fortunes of a general engagement. The captains of the several companies had already designated those who were to stand guard during the night, except Captain Wetherbe, who had selected al, with the exception of one. He was busily engaged in looking through his company, for a soldier to fill the vacancy, when, as good or bad fortune --- I don't know which --- would have it, general Putnam passed that way. As he approached, the captain was in the act of calling Arthur Stewart, a beardless boy then, from the ranks, to act as a sentinel during the night. The general, with mingled emotions of surprise and anger, stepped up to the captain, and taking a littleon one side, said; 'Captain Wetherbe, what is the meaning of this? Are you so thoughtless and imprudent as to select this boy for a sentinel? A boy who has just left his leading -strings, to discharge the most responsible duties of a soldier! You know that the British army is almost within musket-shot of the American lines! Are we not in imminent danger of being attacked tonight? or, at least, of having the British spies discovering our movements? I beg you to look a little to this matter.' 'Your fears are entirely groundless,' replied Wetherbe, 'I know the by; and I would be willing to sleep under the very guns of a British fort, with Arthur Stewart to watch over me. There's not another soldier in my company, I would choose sooner than him --- either for sentinel, or anything else. I am certain that he will do his duty to-night.' 'Do as you please, then,' answered Putnam; 'I have confidence in your judgement; and he turned, and walked away.

"It so happened, that this conversation, though intended to be carried on aside, was overheard by Stewart, and several others. I don't kow how it is, but there is an unaccountable sensibility in the organ of hearing, whenever we suspect we are ourselves the subject of remark --- especially animaladversion.

"Stewart had taken his post as sentinel, during the first part of the night. It so happened that General Putnam had occasion to pass outside the lines. On his way, he did not encounter Arthur Stewart, but another sentinel; who, ascertaining that it was the general, immediately allowed him to pass. After being absent a short time, he made towards the lines, as though he intended to return. In his course, he encountered Stewart. 'Who goes there?" enquired the sentinel. 'General Putnam,' was the reply. 'We know no General Putnam here,' Stewart answered. 'But ,I> am General Putnam,' returned that person; by this time growing somewhat earnest. 'Give me the countersign,' returned Stewart. It so happened, that the general had somewhat unaccountably forgotten what the countersign was; or at least could not, at the moment, call it to mind. 'I have forgotten it,' was the reply. 'This is a pretty story from the lips of General Putnam. You are a British officer, sent over here as a spy,' returned Stewart, who was well aware that he was addressing Putnam; for the moon was shining brightly, and revealed the features of the general; but he had the staff in his own hand, and he meant to use it. 'I warrant you, I am not,' said the general; and he attempted to pass on. 'Pass that line, Sir, and you are a dead man!" exclaimed Stewart, at the same time cocking his gun. 'Stop where you are, or I'll make you stop' continued the sentinel, as the general disregarded his first notice. Hastily raising his gun to his shoulder, and taking a somewhat deliberate aim, he ulled the trigger; but, for some reason or other, the discharge did not follow. 'Hold! Hold!' exclaimed Putnam. 'I do hold,' was the reply. 'The gun holds its charge a great deal better than I intended it should;' immediately priming hs musket for a second trial. 'You are not priming that gun for me? Asked Putnam, anxiously. 'That depends entirely upon circumstances. I warn you, once more, not to pass these lines.' 'But I am your general,' continued Putnam. 'I deny it, unless you give the countersign.' Here the general was at fault. He strove to recall the important word; but all was in vain. 'Boy,' said he, 'do you not know me? I am General Putnam.' 'A British officer, more like. If you are Putnam, as you say, why don't you give me the countersign? So sure as I/m my mother's son, if you attempt to pass the lines, I'll make cold-meat of you . I'm a sentinel. I know my duty; though there are some people in the world, who are marvellously inclined to question it.' At this, Putnam, finding that further parley would be useless, desisted; and the boy, deliberately shouldering his musket, began, with a grat deal of assumed haughtiness, to pace the ground as before.

"Here was the redoubtable General Putnam, the hero of a hundred battles, kept at bay by a stripling of seventeen! This scene, in my humble judgment, would have been a fine subject for a painter's pencil. Putnam, finding that the boy was in earnest --- for he had had alarming proof of it --- durst not, for his life, proceed a step further. He waited until Stewart was relieved; when the other sentinel, finding he was, in truth, General Putnam, allowed hm to pass without giving the countersign. But the general's feelings were terribly excited. He knew, in his inmost soul, that the boy had done nothing but his duty; still, he felt that he had been most egregiously insulted. Had Stewart permitted him to pass without giving the countersign, and he had proved to be a British spy, the boy, according to the rules of war, would have been shot for his negligence. This was the manner in which Putnam's intellect reasoned; but his feelings by no means coincided with it. It is a terrible warfare, when a man's feelings come to an open rupture with his sound judgment; and such cases are by no means rare.

"General Putnam had determined, on returning to his quarters, to punish the boy severely; but, after a little calm reflection on the subject, he felt somewhat differently about it. A sense of honor and justice returned; and, sending for theboy on the morrow, he thus addressed him: 'You are the lad who stood sentinel, on the left wing of the army, last night, I believe? "I am" replied Stewart. 'Did you know the man who encountered you, while at your post?' continued the general. 'I suspected who he might be,' returned the boy. 'Then why did you not permit him to pass?' enquired Putnam, rather sharply. 'I should have forfeited the reputation of being a vigilant sentinel, had I done so,' replied Stewart, without any hesitation. 'That's right,' said the general; 'you did just as I myself would have done, had I been in your place. We have nothing to fear from the British, or any other enemy, with such soldiers as you. Discipline is the soul of the army!' and taking from his purse a piece of gold, he presented it to the boy; at the same time charging him never to forfeit the character he had already acquired. Arthur was, shortly afterwards, promoted to the rank of ensign."

'A fine fellow, that same Arthur Stewart!" ejaculaed one of his auditors, after Captain Peterson had concluded.

"My sentiments, exactly," replied the captain. "He will distinguish himself, I warrant; for he has every qualification requisite in a soldier, and I should not wonder in the least, at hearing that he had signalized himself at Saratoga; for that is where I think he must be at this time, with General Gates's army."