THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH :

OR THE FAIR QUAKER.

A TALE OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

FOUNDED ON FACT.

PART II.

'Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops some joy from withering life away;
New forms arise, and different views engage;
Superfluous lags the veteran on the stage,
Till pitying Nature signs the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.'

Vanity of Human Wishes:

TO BE as brief as possible, the reader is informed that, though Agnes had written Luttrell announcing the birth of their child, weeks, months, and at length years, passed away, and the hopeless but lovely Quaker heard nothing more from him, except that Joseph Seaton brought her a paper announcing that he had become heir to the title of Lord Carhampton, when Mary Woodford was fully convinced that he would never acknowledge her daughter as his wife. Thinking from the infirm state of her own health, that she would be

fore long be taken from her child, and knowing that she had but little property to leave her for the support of herself and Clara Maria, now in her fifteenth year, she urged her to listen to the suit of her lover, Joseph Seaton, who had for some time renewed his addresses. Agnes heard the advice of her mother with patience and attention, and taking it into consideration, began to think that his unchanging attachment merited some reward; added to which her ambition respecting the education of her child would be gratified, as Joseph had said that if Agnes would become his wife, he would spare no expense to have the mind of Clara Maria so cultivated, that if her father claimed her, he would not have cause to blush at her ignorance.

Agnes had been some time hesitating upon the subject and unable to bring herself to give him a decided answer, when a circumstance occurred which effectually determined her to bestow her hand upon the faithful Joseph.

She was one afternoon sitting at tea with her mother, when Seaton, who was then the subject of their conversation, entered with more expression in his countenance than she thought it possible for him to show. He seated himself, with his broad brimmed hat on, and began twirling his thumbs at a rate absolutely tremendous for such a subdued personage as himself.

'What is the news, neighbour?' said Mary.

'Nothing interests me just now but the approaching yearly meeting of our friends,' replied he, and cast a look full of bashful tenderness upon Agnes, who had

not yet made up her mind to marry the sleek faced Joseph, as her beloved Luttrell used to call him.

'Why, yea, Joseph,' said Mary, 'I suppose thee hopes to get thee a wife then,'

Yea, verily I do, if thy Agnes will but consent to take the despised Seaton.'

'Alas! friend Seaton,' replied Agnes, 'I know it is my duty to become thy wife, but while William Henry lives, how can I think of it? I am his wife, whether he claims me or not.'

Here there was a slight agitation in the muscles of Joseph's face. He paused a moment, and twirling his thumbs with increased velocity, looked her earnestly in the face.

'Agnes,' said he, 'what wilt thou do if I convince thee that thou art, as it regards ceremony, no more married to that man of blood than thou art to me?' 'Marry thee at the next meeting, to be sure,' replied Agnes, with some little hauteur.

'Ahem! then verily thou wilt be my wedded wife;' and here he very deliberately took out a large pocket book, and after leisurely opening at least twenty different papers before he put his hand upon the right one, at length unfolded two; one signed by all the ministers within twenty miles around, affirming that they had never married William Henry Luttrell and Agnes Woodford together, the other signed by the tavernkeeper on the Spottswood road, who was in a dying condition, stating that the person who performed the marriage ceremony, was Luttrell's domestic, who had been sent for from New York for that purpose,

and who, in the disguise of a clergyman, which was a cast off dress of the chaplain of the Fortyseventh Regiment, performed the ceremony.

Alas! for poor Agnes. Though shocked at the information, she did not doubt it, for like a flash of lightning it occurred to her that the face of the person who performed the mock ceremony, and that of the servant who brought her the packet from Luttrell, were one and the same, which accounted to her for the confused remembrance which at the last interview she seemed to have of his countenance.

Agnes did not scream, faint, or fall into hysterics; but with a pale face, faded, quivering lips, and tearless eyes, she sat the mute image of horror and amaze

ment.

Seaton proposed her riding over to Spottswood to hear the dying confessions of the repentant man, who bitterly reproached himself for the part he had acted in the deception practised upon Mary Woodford's innocent daughter.

And here we must state what occurs in palliation of Lord Carhampton's conduct. He would, there is no doubt, have obtained her in a dishonorable way if he could, but finding that he could not, and madly in love with her, he determined, not being over scrupulous in his dealings with the fair sex, to adopt the plan above described, with the full intention, after the close of the war, of taking her to Ireland, his native country, and having the ceremony performed over again. But he determined to live with her in secret till after

the decease of his father.

How these determinations

were frustrated our pages will shortly show.

Agnes Woodford did visit the penitent innkeeper at Spottswood, and convinced of the truth of his assertions, soon after became the heartless wife of Seaton. To do him justice, Joseph was both kind and generous to her, to Mary, and especially to Clara Maria, who, as Agnes brought him no family, and as she was the child of the only being on earth who had ever thawed his icy heart, became a great favorite with him.

About a year after Agnes' real marriage, Mary Woodford was gathered in a good old age to the burial place of her fathers. She died blessing her beloved daughter and her child, and was committed to the earth by her sorrowing and affectionate family. Agnes felt the loss of her mother severely; but Joseph tried to console her and she was not ungrateful.

A Major Oswald, who had resided in Middleton for the last ten years, had a son of some nineteen or twenty years of age, who had become much attached to the young Clara Maria, but as such a union would have been very disagreeable to Joseph on account of his religious opinions, and to Major Oswald, who was not wealthy, on the score of pecuniary matters, for he had reason to believe that Seaton would not leave his property to her, but to his brother's family, they were obliged to keep their attachment a secret. But like smothered flames it promised to break out at some future period with unextinguishable fervor.

This was the state of affairs when Joseph Seaton was thrown from his chaise and had one of his legs so