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ARCoSS Ilya Sergey (Ed.)

Programming
LNCS 13240

Languages
and Systems
31st European Symposium on Programming, ESOP 2022
Held as Part of the European Joint Conferences
on Theory and Practice of Software, ETAPS 2022
Munich, Germany, April 2–7, 2022
Proceedings
Lecture Notes in Computer Science 13240
Founding Editors
Gerhard Goos, Germany
Juris Hartmanis, USA

Editorial Board Members

Elisa Bertino, USA Gerhard Woeginger , Germany
Wen Gao, China Moti Yung , USA
Bernhard Steffen , Germany

Advanced Research in Computing and Software Science

Subline of Lecture Notes in Computer Science

Subline Series Editors

Giorgio Ausiello, University of Rome ‘La Sapienza’, Italy
Vladimiro Sassone, University of Southampton, UK

Subline Advisory Board

Susanne Albers, TU Munich, Germany
Benjamin C. Pierce, University of Pennsylvania, USA
Bernhard Steffen , University of Dortmund, Germany
Deng Xiaotie, Peking University, Beijing, China
Jeannette M. Wing, Microsoft Research, Redmond, WA, USA
More information about this series at https://link.springer.com/bookseries/558
Ilya Sergey (Ed.)

Programming
Languages
and Systems
31st European Symposium on Programming, ESOP 2022
Held as Part of the European Joint Conferences
on Theory and Practice of Software, ETAPS 2022
Munich, Germany, April 2–7, 2022
Proceedings

123
Editor
Ilya Sergey
National University of Singapore
Singapore, Singapore

ISSN 0302-9743 ISSN 1611-3349 (electronic)

Lecture Notes in Computer Science
ISBN 978-3-030-99335-1 ISBN 978-3-030-99336-8 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-99336-8
© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2022. This book is an open access publication.
Open Access This book is licensed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International
License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/), which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution
and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and
the source, provide a link to the Creative Commons license and indicate if changes were made.
The images or other third party material in this book are included in the book’s Creative Commons license,
unless indicated otherwise in a credit line to the material. If material is not included in the book’s Creative
Commons license and your intended use is not permitted by statutory regulation or exceeds the permitted use,
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The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication
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protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are
believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors
give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or
omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in
published maps and institutional affiliations.

This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 ETAPS Foreword

Welcome to the 25th ETAPS! ETAPS 2022 took place in Munich, the beautiful capital
of Bavaria, in Germany.
ETAPS 2022 is the 25th instance of the European Joint Conferences on Theory and
Practice of Software. ETAPS is an annual federated conference established in 1998,
and consists of four conferences: ESOP, FASE, FoSSaCS, and TACAS. Each
conference has its own Program Committee (PC) and its own Steering Committee
(SC). The conferences cover various aspects of software systems, ranging from theo-
retical computer science to foundations of programming languages, analysis tools, and
formal approaches to software engineering. Organizing these conferences in a coherent,
highly synchronized conference program enables researchers to participate in an
exciting event, having the possibility to meet many colleagues working in different
directions in the field, and to easily attend talks of different conferences. On the
weekend before the main conference, numerous satellite workshops took place that
attract many researchers from all over the globe.
ETAPS 2022 received 362 submissions in total, 111 of which were accepted,
yielding an overall acceptance rate of 30.7%. I thank all the authors for their interest in
ETAPS, all the reviewers for their reviewing efforts, the PC members for their con-
tributions, and in particular the PC (co-)chairs for their hard work in running this entire
intensive process. Last but not least, my congratulations to all authors of the accepted
papers!
ETAPS 2022 featured the unifying invited speakers Alexandra Silva (University
College London, UK, and Cornell University, USA) and Tomáš Vojnar (Brno
University of Technology, Czech Republic) and the conference-specific invited
speakers Nathalie Bertrand (Inria Rennes, France) for FoSSaCS and Lenore Zuck
(University of Illinois at Chicago, USA) for TACAS. Invited tutorials were provided by
Stacey Jeffery (CWI and QuSoft, The Netherlands) on quantum computing and
Nicholas Lane (University of Cambridge and Samsung AI Lab, UK) on federated
learning.
As this event was the 25th edition of ETAPS, part of the program was a special
celebration where we looked back on the achievements of ETAPS and its constituting
conferences in the past, but we also looked into the future, and discussed the challenges
ahead for research in software science. This edition also reinstated the ETAPS men-
toring workshop for PhD students.
ETAPS 2022 took place in Munich, Germany, and was organized jointly by the
Technical University of Munich (TUM) and the LMU Munich. The former was
founded in 1868, and the latter in 1472 as the 6th oldest German university still running
today. Together, they have 100,000 enrolled students, regularly rank among the top
100 universities worldwide (with TUM’s computer-science department ranked #1 in
the European Union), and their researchers and alumni include 60 Nobel laureates.
vi ETAPS Foreword

The local organization team consisted of Jan Křetínský (general chair), Dirk Beyer
(general, financial, and workshop chair), Julia Eisentraut (organization chair), and
Alexandros Evangelidis (local proceedings chair).
ETAPS 2022 was further supported by the following associations and societies:
ETAPS e.V., EATCS (European Association for Theoretical Computer Science),
EAPLS (European Association for Programming Languages and Systems), and EASST
(European Association of Software Science and Technology).
The ETAPS Steering Committee consists of an Executive Board, and representa-
tives of the individual ETAPS conferences, as well as representatives of EATCS,
EAPLS, and EASST. The Executive Board consists of Holger Hermanns
(Saarbrücken), Marieke Huisman (Twente, chair), Jan Kofroň (Prague), Barbara König
(Duisburg), Thomas Noll (Aachen), Caterina Urban (Paris), Tarmo Uustalu (Reykjavik
and Tallinn), and Lenore Zuck (Chicago).
Other members of the Steering Committee are Patricia Bouyer (Paris), Einar Broch
Johnsen (Oslo), Dana Fisman (Be’er Sheva), Reiko Heckel (Leicester), Joost-Pieter
Katoen (Aachen and Twente), Fabrice Kordon (Paris), Jan Křetínský (Munich), Orna
Kupferman (Jerusalem), Leen Lambers (Cottbus), Tiziana Margaria (Limerick),
Andrew M. Pitts (Cambridge), Elizabeth Polgreen (Edinburgh), Grigore Roşu (Illinois),
Peter Ryan (Luxembourg), Sriram Sankaranarayanan (Boulder), Don Sannella
(Edinburgh), Lutz Schröder (Erlangen), Ilya Sergey (Singapore), Natasha Sharygina
(Lugano), Pawel Sobocinski (Tallinn), Peter Thiemann (Freiburg), Sebastián Uchitel
(London and Buenos Aires), Jan Vitek (Prague), Andrzej Wasowski (Copenhagen),
Thomas Wies (New York), Anton Wijs (Eindhoven), and Manuel Wimmer (Linz).
I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all authors, attendees, organizers of the
satellite workshops, and Springer-Verlag GmbH for their support. I hope you all
enjoyed ETAPS 2022.
Finally, a big thanks to Jan, Julia, Dirk, and their local organization team for all their
enormous efforts to make ETAPS a fantastic event.

February 2022 Marieke Huisman

ETAPS SC Chair
ETAPS e.V. President
 Preface

This volume contains the papers accepted at the 31st European Symposium on
Programming (ESOP 2022), held during April 5–7, 2022, in Munich, Germany
(COVID-19 permitting). ESOP is one of the European Joint Conferences on Theory
and Practice of Software (ETAPS); it is dedicated to fundamental issues in the spec-
ification, design, analysis, and implementation of programming languages and systems.
The 21 papers in this volume were selected by the Program Committee (PC) from
64 submissions. Each submission received between three and four reviews. After
receiving the initial reviews, the authors had a chance to respond to questions and
clarify misunderstandings of the reviewers. After the author response period, the papers
were discussed electronically using the HotCRP system by the 33 Program Committee
members and 33 external reviewers. Two papers, for which the PC chair had a conflict
of interest, were kindly managed by Zena Ariola. The reviewing for ESOP 2022 was
double-anonymous, and only authors of the eventually accepted papers have been
revealed.
Following the example set by other major conferences in programming languages,
for the first time in its history, ESOP featured optional artifact evaluation. Authors
of the accepted manuscripts were invited to submit artifacts, such as code, datasets, and
mechanized proofs, that supported the conclusions of their papers. Members of the
Artifact Evaluation Committee (AEC) read the papers and explored the artifacts,
assessing their quality and checking that they supported the authors’ claims. The
authors of eleven of the accepted papers submitted artifacts, which were evaluated by
20 AEC members, with each artifact receiving four reviews. Authors of papers with
accepted artifacts were assigned official EAPLS artifact evaluation badges, indicating
that they have taken the extra time and have undergone the extra scrutiny to prepare a
useful artifact. The ESOP 2022 AEC awarded Artifacts Functional and Artifacts
(Functional and) Reusable badges. All submitted artifacts were deemed Functional, and
all but one were found to be Reusable.
My sincere thanks go to all who contributed to the success of the conference and to
its exciting program. This includes the authors who submitted papers for consideration;
the external reviewers who provided timely expert reviews sometimes on very short
notice; the AEC members and chairs who took great care of this new aspect of ESOP;
and, of course, the members of the ESOP 2022 Program Committee. I was extremely
impressed by the excellent quality of the reviews, the amount of constructive feedback
given to the authors, and the criticism delivered in a professional and friendly tone.
I am very grateful to Andreea Costea and KC Sivaramakrishnan who kindly agreed to
serve as co-chairs for the ESOP 2022 Artifact Evaluation Committee. I would like to
thank the ESOP 2021 chair Nobuko Yoshida for her advice, patience, and the many
insightful discussions on the process of running the conference. I thank all who con-
tributed to the organization of ESOP: the ESOP steering committee and its chair Peter
Thiemann, as well as the ETAPS steering committee and its chair Marieke Huisman.
viii Preface

Finally, I would like to thank Barbara König and Alexandros Evangelidis for their help
with assembling the proceedings.

February 2022 Ilya Sergey

 Organization

Program Chair
Ilya Sergey National University of Singapore, Singapore

Program Committee
Michael D. Adams Yale-NUS College, Singapore
Danel Ahman University of Ljubljana, Slovenia
Aws Albarghouthi University of Wisconsin-Madison, USA
Zena M. Ariola University of Oregon, USA
Ahmed Bouajjani Université de Paris, France
Giuseppe Castagna CNRS, Université de Paris, France
Cristina David University of Bristol, UK
Mariangiola Dezani Università di Torino, Italy
Rayna Dimitrova CISPA Helmholtz Center for Information Security,
Germany
Jana Dunfield Queen’s University, Canada
Aquinas Hobor University College London, UK
Guilhem Jaber Université de Nantes, France
Jeehoon Kang KAIST, South Korea
Ekaterina Komendantskaya Heriot-Watt University, UK
Ori Lahav Tel Aviv University, Israel
Ivan Lanese Università di Bologna, Italy, and Inria, France
Dan Licata Wesleyan University, USA
Sam Lindley University of Edinburgh, UK
Andreas Lochbihler Digital Asset, Switzerland
Cristina Lopes University of California, Irvine, USA
P. Madhusudan University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, USA
Stefan Marr University of Kent, UK
James Noble Victoria University of Wellington, New Zealand
Burcu Kulahcioglu Ozkan Delft University of Technology, The Netherlands
Andreas Pavlogiannis Aarhus University, Denmark
Vincent Rahli University of Birmingham, UK
Robert Rand University of Chicago, USA
Christine Rizkallah University of Melbourne, Australia
Alejandro Russo Chalmers University of Technology, Sweden
Gagandeep Singh University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, USA
Gordon Stewart BedRock Systems, USA
Joseph Tassarotti Boston College, USA
Bernardo Toninho Universidade NOVA de Lisboa, Portugal
x Organization

Additional Reviewers
Andreas Abel Gothenburg University, Sweden
Guillaume Allais University of St Andrews, UK
Kalev Alpernas Tel Aviv University, Israel
Davide Ancona Università di Genova, Italy
Stephanie Balzer Carnegie Mellon University, USA
Giovanni Bernardi Université de Paris, France
Soham Chakraborty Delft University of Technology, The Netherlands
Arthur Chargueraud Inria, France
Ranald Clouston Australian National University, Australia
Fredrik Dahlqvist University College London, UK
Olivier Danvy Yale-NUS College, Singapore
Benjamin Delaware Purdue University, USA
Dominique Devriese KU Leuven, Belgium
Paul Downen University of Massachusetts, Lowell, USA
Yannick Forster Saarland University, Germany
Milad K. Ghale University of New South Wales, Australia
Kiran Gopinathan National University of Singapore, Singapore
Tristan Knoth University of California, San Diego, USA
Paul Levy University of Birmingham, UK
Umang Mathur National University of Singapore, Singapore
McKenna McCall Carnegie Mellon University, USA
Garrett Morris University of Iowa, USA
Fredrik Nordvall Forsberg University of Strathclyde, UK
José N. Oliveira University of Minho, Portugal
Alex Potanin Australian National University, Australia
Susmit Sarkar University of St Andrews, UK
Filip Sieczkowski Heriot-Watt University, UK
Kartik Singhal University of Chicago, USA
Sandro Stucki Chalmers University of Technology and University
of Gothenburg, Sweden
Amin Timany Aarhus University, Denmark
Klaus v. Gleissenthall Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam, The Netherlands
Thomas Wies New York University, USA
Vladimir Zamdzhiev Inria, Loria, Université de Lorraine, France

Artifact Evaluation Committee Chairs

Andreea Costea National University of Singapore, Singapore
K. C. Sivaramakrishnan IIT Madras, India

Artifact Evaluation Committee

Utpal Bora IIT Hyderabad, India
Darion Cassel Carnegie Mellon University, USA
 Organization xi

Pritam Choudhury University of Pennsylvania, USA

Jan de Muijnck-Hughes University of Glasgow, UK
Darius Foo National University of Singapore, Singapore
Léo Gourdin Université Grenoble-Alpes, France
Daniel Hillerström University of Edinburgh, UK
Jules Jacobs Radboud University, The Netherlands
Chaitanya Koparkar Indiana University, USA
Yinling Liu Toulouse Computer Science Research Center, France
Yiyun Liu University of Pennsylvania, USA
Kristóf Marussy Budapest University of Technology and Economics,
Hungary
Orestis Melkonian University of Edinburgh, UK
Shouvick Mondal Concordia University, Canada
Krishna Narasimhan TU Darmstadt, Germany
Mário Pereira Universidade NOVA de Lisboa, Portugal
Goran Piskachev Fraunhofer IEM, Germany
Somesh Singh Inria, France
Yahui Song National University of Singapore, Singapore
Vimala Soundarapandian IIT Madras, India
 Contents

Categorical Foundations of Gradient-Based Learning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Geoffrey S. H. Cruttwell, Bruno Gavranović, Neil Ghani, Paul Wilson,
and Fabio Zanasi

Compiling Universal Probabilistic Programming Languages with Efficient

Parallel Sequential Monte Carlo Inference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
Daniel Lundén, Joey Öhman, Jan Kudlicka, Viktor Senderov,
Fredrik Ronquist, and David Broman

Foundations for Entailment Checking in Quantitative Separation Logic . . . . . 57

Kevin Batz, Ira Fesefeldt, Marvin Jansen, Joost-Pieter Katoen,
Florian Keßler, Christoph Matheja, and Thomas Noll

Extracting total Amb programs from proofs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85

Ulrich Berger and Hideki Tsuiki

Why3-do: The Way of Harmonious Distributed System Proofs . . . . . . . . . . . 114

Cláudio Belo Lourenço and Jorge Sousa Pinto

Relaxed virtual memory in Armv8-A. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143

Ben Simner, Alasdair Armstrong, Jean Pichon-Pharabod,
Christopher Pulte, Richard Grisenthwaite, and Peter Sewell

Verified Security for the Morello Capability-enhanced Prototype

Arm Architecture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174
Thomas Bauereiss, Brian Campbell, Thomas Sewell,
Alasdair Armstrong, Lawrence Esswood, Ian Stark, Graeme Barnes,
Robert N. M. Watson, and Peter Sewell

The Trusted Computing Base of the CompCert Verified Compiler . . . . . . . . 204

David Monniaux and Sylvain Boulmé

View-Based Owicki–Gries Reasoning for Persistent x86-TSO. . . . . . . . . . . . 234

Eleni Vafeiadi Bila, Brijesh Dongol, Ori Lahav, Azalea Raad,
and John Wickerson

Abstraction for Crash-Resilient Objects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 262

Artem Khyzha and Ori Lahav

Static Race Detection for Periodic Programs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290

Varsha P Suresh, Rekha Pai, Deepak D’Souza, Meenakshi D’Souza,
and Sujit Kumar Chakrabarti
xiv Contents

Probabilistic Total Store Ordering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317

Parosh Aziz Abdulla, Mohamed Faouzi Atig, Raj Aryan Agarwal,
Adwait Godbole, and Krishna S.

Linearity and Uniqueness: An Entente Cordiale . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 346

Daniel Marshall, Michael Vollmer, and Dominic Orchard

A Framework for Substructural Type Systems . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 376

James Wood and Robert Atkey

A Dependent Dependency Calculus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 403

Pritam Choudhury, Harley Eades III, and Stephanie Weirich

Polarized Subtyping. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 431

Zeeshan Lakhani, Ankush Das, Henry DeYoung, Andreia Mordido,
and Frank Pfenning

Structured Handling of Scoped Effects. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 462

Zhixuan Yang, Marco Paviotti, Nicolas Wu, Birthe van den Berg,
and Tom Schrijvers

Region-based Resource Management and Lexical Exception Handlers

in Continuation-Passing Style . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 492
Philipp Schuster, Jonathan Immanuel Brachthäuser,
and Klaus Ostermann

A Predicate Transformer for Choreographies: Computing Preconditions

in Choreographic Programming. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 520
Sung-Shik Jongmans and Petra van den Bos

Comparing the Expressiveness of the p-calculus and CCS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 548

Rob van Glabbeek

Concurrent NetKAT: Modeling and analyzing stateful,

concurrent networks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 575
Jana Wagemaker, Nate Foster, Tobias Kappé, Dexter Kozen,
Jurriaan Rot, and Alexandra Silva

Author Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 603

 Categorical Foundations of Gradient-Based Learning

Geoffrey S. H. Cruttwell1 ( ) , Bruno Gavranović2 ( ) , Neil Ghani2 ( ) ,

Paul Wilson4 ( ) , and Fabio Zanasi4 ( )
1
Mount Allison University, Canada
2
University of Strathclyde, United Kingdom
3
University College London

Abstract. We propose a categorical semantics of gradient-based ma-

chine learning algorithms in terms of lenses, parametric maps, and re-
verse derivative categories. This foundation provides a powerful explana-
tory and unifying framework: it encompasses a variety of gradient descent
algorithms such as ADAM, AdaGrad, and Nesterov momentum, as well
as a variety of loss functions such as MSE and Softmax cross-entropy,
shedding new light on their similarities and differences. Our approach to
gradient-based learning has examples generalising beyond the familiar
continuous domains (modelled in categories of smooth maps) and can
be realized in the discrete setting of boolean circuits. Finally, we demon-
strate the practical significance of our framework with an implementation
in Python.

1 Introduction
The last decade has witnessed a surge of interest in machine learning, fuelled by
the numerous successes and applications that these methodologies have found in
many fields of science and technology. As machine learning techniques become
increasingly pervasive, algorithms and models become more sophisticated, posing
a significant challenge both to the software developers and the users that need to
interface, execute and maintain these systems. In spite of this rapidly evolving
picture, the formal analysis of many learning algorithms mostly takes place at a
heuristic level [41], or using definitions that fail to provide a general and scalable
framework for describing machine learning. Indeed, it is commonly acknowledged
through academia, industry, policy makers and funding agencies that there is a
pressing need for a unifying perspective, which can make this growing body of
work more systematic, rigorous, transparent and accessible both for users and
developers [2, 36].
Consider, for example, one of the most common machine learning scenar-
ios: supervised learning with a neural network. This technique trains the model
towards a certain task, e.g. the recognition of patterns in a data set (cf. Fig-
ure 1). There are several different ways of implementing this scenario. Typically,
at their core, there is a gradient update algorithm (often called the “optimiser”),
depending on a given loss function, which updates in steps the parameters of the
network, based on some learning rate controlling the “scaling” of the update. All
c The Author(s) 2022
I. Sergey (Ed.): ESOP 2022, LNCS 13240, pp. 1–28, 2022.
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-99336-8_1
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was Polly, but Peele preferred "Polyhymnia" as being more sonorous] giving that beast
Gough two potatoes instead of one, I didn't mean to say a word; but he pitched one into
the fireplace, and I couldn't help shying mine at his head. He shied back, and hit
Squinnige, and then you fellows all chipped in."
From which it will be gathered that the young gentlemen of Hutton Park Academy were
in a state of open rebellion. There were several causes to account for this; but the chief
among them was the rivalry which existed between Peele and "Grinny" Gough with
regard to Polyhymnia, who was sixteen to their fourteen.
Dr. Wantage had a theory that to teach boys to be gentlemen they should be subjected
at an early age to the refining influence of feminine society.
He was a widower. The only feminine society, therefore, that he could provide for the
young gentlemen under his charge was that of Polyhymnia, who entered into his plans
with the greatest gusto, and announced that she was perfectly willing to sacrifice herself
for the good of the school. Had the Doctor been a suspicious man, he would have
wondered at this alacrity, but a work on Greek particles absorbed most of his time, and
he noticed nothing. Polyhymnia had only been home about a fortnight from school, and
was already beginning to find time hang heavily on her hands. She hailed the Doctor's
scheme with delight, and made her first public entrance at the boys' dinner, and sat at
the head of the table in order to distribute the potatoes.
Peele, who was the first boy to enter the room, made her a lordly bow. "Grinny" Gough
came second, put one foot into a hole in the mat, and tumbled heavily at his divinity's
feet. The rest of the rank and file made an awkward entrance over "Grinny" Gough's
prostrate body, whilst Peele conversed with Polyhymnia, and regarded his rival with lofty
contempt.
Polyhymnia declined to carve for the forty young gentlemen, but devoted herself to the
distribution of potatoes, boiled in their skins—the potatoes' skins, not the young
gentlemen's. On the first day of her doing so each boy was about to devour his potato,
when the Tadpole noticed that Peele gracefully removed his from his plate, wrapped it up
in his handkerchief, bowed to Polyhymnia, and put it in his pocket—his breast pocket.
Polyhymnia blushed; this was true worship. Her blushes were succeeded by others when
the whole of Peele's faction proceeded to follow their chief's example, each boy enfolding
the precious potato in a more or less dirty pocket-handkerchief. But after about three
days' persistent accumulation of potatoes, Nature asserted itself, and Peele's followers
felt that it was rather ridiculous to carry about a pound and a half of uneaten vegetables
in their pockets. On the fourth day, Gough, with a vigorous sneer at Peele, had, as Peele
explained, ostentatiously pitched his extra potato into the fireplace. The next instant he
received the point of a particularly hard-skinned potato in his left eye. Two moments later
the battle became general, Peele standing in front of Polyhymnia, and shielding her from
flying missiles with heroic devotion. Then Squinnige, the usher, came out from under the
table, and the result was the suppression of the customary half-holiday, and an absurd
"imposition" to be done about the Landes.
"Never heard of the blessed places," said the Tadpole, with a rueful glance at the
blackboard. "What are they, anyway?"
"Oh, it's easy enough," said Peele. "You fellows needn't trouble about it. It's where every
one goes about on stilts. Now just settle down and do your 'impo,' or Squinnige'll be at
us again. He's a victim to duty, is Squinnige, and I want to make things easy for him."
At this moment Gough, surrounded by his faction, approached the platform.
"Come down, and I'll lick your head off," he said to Peele.
Peele, who was an admirable boxer for his age, regarded Gough with particular
contempt.
"Squinnige would be at us before I'd blackened the other eye," he said to Gough. "Name
your weapons. We'll fight this thing out like gentlemen."
Gough was staggered. If he did not assert himself his ascendency was gone forever.
"I'd like to punch your head," he said; "but, as you say, when gentlemen fight about a
woman they don't do it with fists. Swords and pistols are common. I'd like something
worse."
Gough's followers crowded to the support of their chief with a thrill of delight.
"I call this prime," said the Guinea-Pig. "Prime!" he repeated, smacking his lips.
Peele waved his hand with lofty condescension.
"As you please," he said, glancing idly at the blackboard. Then a thought struck him
which did credit to his love of the dramatic.
"What do you say to stilts?" he asked.
"Stilts!" said Gough, in amazement. "You might as well talk of 80-ton guns."
"Not at all," said Peele. "Quite customary in France. Much deadlier than pistols."
"But how d'you do it?" asked the crestfallen Gough.
Peele shrugged his shoulders.
"Oh, stand on one stilt and hit with the other," he said. "Gentlemen generally leave
details to their seconds."
"That's all very well," said Gough. "I didn't come over to England with a Norman pig-
driver, and ain't used to those things; but we can't make fools of ourselves in the middle
of the playground. If you can hit on a way of working it without making asses of
ourselves I'm game."
"All right," said Peele, loftily; "I'll work it out. The Tadpole acts for me. I suppose the
Guinea-Pig will do the same for you?"
"Yes," said Gough, sulkily, creeping away to his end of the school-room.
Peele's followers gathered round him again and began to worship.
"Of course it's all guff," said the Tadpole. "Nothing but a stork could fight on one leg."
Peele again waved his hand.
"Can each of you fellows rake up a shilling?"
It being Saturday, the amount required was speedily subscribed, and handed over with
unquestioning faith to Peele.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked the Tadpole.
Peele sat down and hastily drew a pair of stilts. "I'll take this to the village," he said, "and
get Smith to make us forty pairs. Then I'll show you fellows how to use them. It's often
struck me we could play 'footer' in this way and get a lot of fun out of it. Now, Tadpole,
go and explain to the enemy."
When the plan was explained to the enemy, the enemy immediately acquiesced in it.
About a week later Dr. Wantage was surprised to see his pupils mounted on stilts and
tumbling about in every direction. When he came to the Tadpole, who sat on the ground,
ruefully rubbing the back of his head, the Doctor sternly ordered that big-headed youth
to rise.
"What's the meaning of this tomfoolery, Wilkinson?" (the Tadpole's name was Wilkinson)
he demanded.
The Tadpole looked imploringly round at Peele, who at that moment appeared on stilts
which covered about six feet at a stride.
"It's this way, sir," Peele explained to the Doctor, as he leaped to the ground. "Mr.
Squinnige gave us an 'impo' on the Landes last Saturday, where the people do everything
on stilts. We got so interested in it, we're going to play a football match on stilts when
we've had a little practice."
The Doctor looked round and saw half of his pupils reclining in various involuntary
attitudes on the ground, whilst ten or twelve others put their stilts against the wall and
tried in vain to get on them.
"Oh, very well, Peele," he said; "don't let your zeal carry you too far. It will be awkward if
half of you are laid up with broken arms and legs." And the Doctor continued his way to a
neighboring wood, there to meditate on particles.
Polyhymnia could not understand this sudden craze for stilts. She pressed Peele for an
explanation.
"I'm sure you're at the bottom of it," said Polyhymnia, with emphasis. "You are the worst
boy I ever knew—and the handsomest," she added, weakly.
"If you look in your glass," said Peele, "I think you'll find I'm not at the bottom of it all. I
wish you wouldn't speak to that beast Gough."
"Gough is full of good points," said Polyhymnia, angrily.
"So are a lot of other beasts," retorted Peele, more than ever decided that the combat
should be waged to the death.
A bogus match was played under the Doctor's nose one afternoon, in which Peele's
followers got decidedly the worst of it. Gough, emboldened by triumph, proposed that
Peele and himself should settle their differences in Homeric combat then and there.
"I fight," retorted Peele, "when there is no chance of interruption."
This remark made the matter irrevocable, and the combat was fixed to take place on the
following Saturday afternoon, when it was known that the Doctor would be away.
On the appointed afternoon all the boys in the school were drawn up into two armies
mounted on stilts.
Peele and Gough stalked into the middle of the playground, attended by the Tadpole and
the Guinea-Pig respectively, and ceremoniously bowed to each other, although the feat
was difficult.
Now that everything had gone so far, the Tadpole began to funk it. "Hadn't you better let
him off?" he said, apprehensively, to Peele.
"Say another word," threatened Peele, "and I'll begin on you."

THEN THE FIGHT COMMENCED.

Then the fight commenced.
The Tadpole and the Guinea-Pig had drawn up a code regulating the manner of the
combat.
The combatants were not allowed to push against each other, but might strike with one
stilt, or thrust. Whenever one fell, it counted to his opponent.
The two began shuffling warily round each other, like wrestlers waiting for an opening. By
a dexterous thrust of the right stilt Gough succeeded in bringing Peele to the ground,
amid derisive shouts from his followers. Peele's face was badly scratched by the gravel,
but he was on his stilts again in a second.
In the next round he fought more warily, and balancing himself on one foot, delivered a
swashing blow at Gough's shoulder-blade. He was about to follow it up as Gough
wavered, but the Guinea-Pig came behind him, and, utterly regardless of the laws of the
duello, struck Peele a crushing blow on the back of the head with his stilt.
Peele fell to the ground for the second time. There was a cry of horror, as Polyhymnia,
who had not accompanied her father, rushed up and supported his head on her lap;
whilst Gough stood moodily looking on at his rival, and the abashed Guinea-Pig bolted,
amid a shower of stilts flung at him by the enraged boys.
"You coward!" screamed Polyhymnia to Gough. "Oh, you base, cowardly wretch; you
daren't fight him yourself, so you got some one else to attack him from behind. I'll never
speak to you again."
Gough was too proud to exculpate himself at the expense of his injudicious follower.
Peele at last opened his eyes. "It wasn't his fault," he said, magnanimous to the last;
"don't let on to the Doctor," and fainted.

Peele remained a month in the sick-room. The first day he was able to come down into
the matron's parlor he found Gough there, gloomily waiting for him.
"I've come," the latter explained, "to let you know I wasn't cad enough to plan hitting
you from behind."
Peele looked at him curiously.
"I never thought you were," he said.
"The Doctor fancies it was an accident," moodily continued Gough; "and he's ordered all
the stilts to be burned. Since then I've been thinking things over." He hesitated. "We
could finish this affair in the holidays, on the sands at Boulogne. Perhaps pistols would be
better; stilts are too uncertain," he added, darkly. "You shall have first shot to make up
for this."
Polyhymnia entered the room.
"Shake hands," she commanded, "or I'll never speak to either of you again. Besides, if
you don't, I'll tell the Doctor all about it."
Dogged to the last, the foes reluctantly shook hands, and Gough left the room.
Polyhymnia remained, looking at Peele rather doubtfully.
She came a step or two nearer, but he did not glance at her.
"Philip!" she said. "Aren't you beginning rather early?"
Peele looked up.
Polyhymnia put out her hand, and insisted on his shaking hands with her.
"I've not given Gough a single potato since you were ill," she said; "and I never, never
will, as long as I live."
Peele began to feel better.
 A LOYAL TRAITOR.
A STORY OF THE WAR OF 1812 BETWEEN AMERICA AND
ENGLAND.

BY JAMES BARNES.

CHAPTER VII.

HARDSHIPS.
Now behold the third attempt that I have made to condense this part of my narrative.
In desperation, for I wish to push on, I have adopted the measure of giving but an
outline of my personal history covering two years.
So I jump to a day in June, after I had been living in the little house on Mountain Brook
some seven months.
During this time I had been to Miller's Falls but once with my uncle, but so insolently was
I stared at that I did not care to withstand again the ordeal of pointed fingers and the
whispered conversations of the curious. But now on this June day, here I was standing at
the edge of the pasture waiting for some one most impatiently.
From the door-step of Belair but one other dwelling was in sight; except this, nothing but
ranges of hill-tops. But a mile below lived a farmer named Tanner, who managed by hard
labor to gain his living from the ground. But I was not waiting for him, nor for my uncle,
nor for Gaston, who, by-the-way, had been constituted, or had appointed himself, my
guardian to such an extent that I might at times, with no stretching of the imagination,
consider myself a prisoner. No, I was not waiting for any of them, but for some one who
soon hove in sight across the slope of the opposite hill. It was a little girl of my own age,
and the only living being at that time who knew anything of my thoughts or life; and they
were both strange enough for a boy of fifteen to possess or to endure.
Perhaps if I should tell of our conversation on this day it might recount something that
would show how things were with me. In our meeting there was nothing but the
friendship of two lads, to put the case as it really appeared to be, and when she had
climbed up on the top rail of the fence beside me, and hooked the hollows of her feet
behind the bar to keep her balance, the way I was doing, we began, as children do, to
speak without preliminaries of any kind in the way of greetings.
"Why weren't you here this morning?" she said, as if accusing me.
"He had one of his fits on and kept me at work," I replied. "First I had to practise with
the small sword for two hours. If I don't look out he will run me through some day. I
almost wish he would."
"I heard you shooting," said the girl.
"Yes, he wouldn't let me off until I had placed three pistol balls inside a horseshoe nailed
to the side of the barn; but I'd rather do that than go through the fencing."
"Down in the village and at our house every one says you're all crack-brained up here,"
the girl said, making a grasp in the air at a yellow butterfly that flittered over her head.
"What else did you do?"
I was ashamed to say that I had been at my dancing-lesson, so I said: "I had to translate
four odes of Horace and learn all about a lot of stupid people named De Brissac. I'm glad
they had their heads cut off."
"Why did that happen to them?" asked the girl. "What did they cut their heads off for?"
"Because they were nobles and offended the French Republicans by being polite and well
dressed and clean, my uncle says."
"Tell me all about it."
I had had the history of the great French revolution, at least one side of it, drilled into me
ever since my advent at Mountain Brook. I had learned that my uncle had escaped to
America from France, where he had fought for the King, and that my mother and her
twin sister had also managed to get away from the frightful prison of La Conciergerie
with their lives, but that my grandfather, two uncles, and an aunt by marriage had all lost
their heads by the guillotine for the sole reason that they were rich, very well dressed,
and very polite indeed, so far as I could make out.
I had learned by heart the family histories of any number of the great noble families of
France, and all of this I considered most dull work indeed, and wasted time. However, the
story that I related to Mary Tanner, as we sat on the top rail of the fence, seemed to
interest her greatly.
"You see," I was saying, after I had finished spinning the long yarn, "my name is not
John Hurdiss at all; it is something else."
"What is it?" asked the girl.
"I have no idea," I replied; "but my uncle always calls me Jean, which means John, and,
to be honest, I don't think he knows himself."
"I don't see why he shouldn't be able to tell," replied Mary, "if he knows so much about
other people."
"No more do I," I answered. "But I don't care. John Hurdiss is good enough for me."
Now, the fact of the matter was this, and I may as well state it here as afterwards: I had
guessed about the truth. My uncle did not really know my name, and for this reason:
You see, as I have told, my grandfather was the Marquis de Brienne (I have forgotten to
set down that Gaston always called my uncle "Monsieur le Marquis," or something that
might be resolved into that). Well, the old gentleman (my ancestor) had three children—
the present proprietor of the Château de Belair on Mountain Brook, and twin daughters,
Hortense and Hélène, who afterwards married two of the well-dressed and well-hated
ones at a time when they had more titles than gold.
Now it happened these two latter gentlemen—my father and uncle, of course—had each
the same initials (it is no consequence what the names were, but each ended in "de B").
Early in the great troubles they had sought refuge in England, having better luck than
their future wives, who were taken by the revolutionists. But the two ladies escaped
through the aid of an adventurous sea-captain, and they joined the colony of refugees in
England, where they each found a husband. But affairs did not prosper with them. In the
year 1798 the Duke de B—— became entangled in a plot of some kind for the
restoration, was caught in France, and lost his head like the rest of his family; and in the
same year the Comte de B—— had an unfortunate duel with an English Major of infantry,
and was killed. This left the two noble ladies widows, each with an infant boy of a few
months old to take care of. For some reason they packed up their belongings and set out
for America on a sailing-vessel, commanded, it appears, by no less a person than the
sea-captain who had assisted in their first escape from France.
Sad to relate, the ship in which they sailed was wrecked, and one of the ladies was lost
with her infant in the disaster. Whether it was the Duchesse de B—— or the Comtesse de
B—— was not placed on record, but the commander of the ship, Captain John Hurdiss,
married the survivor at some place in the West Indies, I believe.
Now there was no way of finding out which one of the ladies the gallant Captain Hurdiss
had married, and I had never heard my mother's first name mentioned that I could
recall. My uncle did not know it, of a certainty. This was the situation in a nutshell, and I
trust that I have made it plain, for I have endeavored to do so in the very shortest
manner, to the best of my ability.
Thus the loss of the letter and the burning of the strong-box were two misfortunes that
had prevented me from knowing really who I was.
All this may seem complicated, but I have done my best to make it lucid; and with a
heartfelt apology for this long digression, let me return to the day in June, and to the boy
and girl talking together, balanced on the top rail of the pasture bars.
"Did you bring the book with you that you were speaking about?" I asked of my
companion.
"No," she replied; "but I will leave it under the flat rock this evening."
"I'll get it, then," I answered. "Halloa! Look at that."
"It's a woodchuck," said the girl, jumping from her perch, and we both charged at a small
brown animal that scurried into a hole beneath some loose stones. We were busily
engaged in routing him out and he was whistling back defiance (we had almost got at
him), when I heard my name called. I looked up and saw my uncle and old Twineface
approaching along the path.
"Jean, Jean! Come here at once!" called Monsieur de Brienne, in French.
"I'm going to run," said the girl, who had often expressed her terror at Gaston's
appearance.
Without another word she turned and fled, jumping over the tall ferns like a deer.
My uncle had now approached within a few feet's distance.
"Who is that with you?" he inquired, angrily.
"Mary Tanner, the daughter of the farmer below," I replied. "I have known her for some
months. She is very nice—and—and pretty," I faltered.
"Bah! You shall have nothing to do with her. Never speak to her, d'ye mind me? And
here's where you have been spending your time instead of being at your studies. Come
back with me; I will fence with you."
It was one of my uncle's young days; and here, to put down something that neither I nor
any person of real learning to whom I have related the facts, could account for: at
varying periods my uncle, who was past sixty, seemed to be gifted with an agility, a
nervous force and strength, that I have never seen equalled in a man of his slightness.
This rejuvenation, during which he often sang rondeaux and tinkled an accompaniment
on an old lyre, would last for some ten hours, perhaps, and would be followed by two or
three days, or sometimes a week, of collapse, during which he appeared on the verge of
dissolution, and either Gaston or myself had to be with him every minute, administering
from time to time a few drops from an acrid-smelling vial.
But, as I have said, this was one of his youthful days.
I had been awakened in the morning early by a strange sound, and had found him
jumping the colt backwards and forwards over a hurdle on the grass-plot before the
house, Gaston standing by, a grim spectator, with no interest in his dull, lack-lustre eyes.
For an hour the old man had put me through a practice with a small sword (he was the
best fencer I have ever seen), until I almost cried out from weariness, and we changed
the exercise for pistol practice. Now we returned to Belair, and despite my complaining, I
was forced to take up the foils again, and actually to defend myself, for my uncle kept me
up to my work by now and then giving me a clip over the thigh or forearm. At last I grew
angry, and pressed him so close that a smile of pleasure drew his lips, and he muttered
"bravo" two or three time beneath his breath. Suddenly I noticed a gray shadow cross his
face, and his eyelids drooped. He raised his hand, and without a word fell forward at my
feet. It was one of the worst attacks that he had experienced, and for five days Gaston
and I nursed him, and I found no chance to get away to the pasture bars, or to the flat
rock where Mary had placed the book we had spoken of.
On the sixth day my uncle was up and as spry as ever, but now I found that I was
practically under surveillance; wherever I went the frightful Gaston would go also. He
was a most unpleasant person to have around, for although his senses were most acute
and he possessed the cunning of a wolf, it was impossible to carry on a conversation with
him. He had an impediment in his speech, a combination of a stutter and the result of
having no roof to his mouth, that made his utterances sound like those of a savage or
wild beast. To say "yes" or "no" was an effort for him, and he usually expressed his
meaning by making signs.
One day, I remember, I had determined to test my authority over him (for in most things
he obeyed me implicitly, so far as the fetching and carrying went, but upon this occasion,
as I say, I determined to give him a test). I had walked as far as the edge of our clearing,
and paused on the bank of the brook.
"Gaston," I said, "go back to the house. I'm going on alone." The only reply was a shake
of the head. "Do you hear me? I'm going on alone." (It was my intention to make my
way to the Tanner farm-house, where, by-the-way, I had never been, and ask for Mary.)
Now, seeing that Gaston did not intend to obey me, I jumped down the bank and dashed
across the stream, but I had not taken a dozen strides before the old servant had me by
the arm; his long fingers closed on my flesh like a steel clamp. The result was that I went
back to the house. But that evening I managed to get away, and went to the flat rock,
under which I found the book. I had to wait until daylight before I could examine it,
although Mary, a week or so before, had told me of its contents.
It was an old volume relating the adventures of an Englishman named Robinson Crusoe
(I can recall the musty smell of its pages at this very instant). Oh, the delight that I had
for the next few hours, reading the greatest story, to my mind, that was ever penned!
Oh, the desire for freedom and the longing to see the world which was builded up within
me as I turned each page! Ah! Robinson, Robinson! despite the moral you intend to
teach, you have turned many lads' minds to the sea, and given them a burning, dry thirst
for adventure not to be quenched at home! I had read few stories in English up to this
time, but I fairly shook, as I read this one, with the intensity of my sensations.
I am afraid that living this life gave me a tendency for dissimulation, although in my
gaoler, Gaston, I had a hard one to deceive. Nevertheless I succeeded in getting away
one afternoon, and made my way through the woods to Farmer Tanner's. Suffice it to say
that I was chased out of the door-yard by the goodwife, with a broom in her hand, who
informed me that Mary had gone away—where, she did not state. I was threatened,
incidentally, with the ox-goad, if I should return; and so my errand was not altogether
successful.
Now to give a big jump over time. Another year went by. Oh, the misery of it all! The
long, snowed-in days of the winter when, although my uncle had money, I think, I had
scarcely sufficient clothing to keep me warm, and barely enough to eat. M. de Brienne's
conduct and manner by now had become so strange and his mind was so volatile that I
could never say that I felt affection toward him. I had begun to hate Gaston generously.
When spring came, to amuse myself, I delved in the garden, and was rewarded by seeing
all my green things prosper wondrously. An illness that had lasted over a month almost
brought me to my grave in April, but I cannot complain for lack of nursing. Now,
however, there had entered my mind but one idea—to escape, and that right soon. Why I
had not thought of it seriously before must excite wonder. The determination to begin to
prepare for an actual separation came to me in this fashion.
Owing to the strangeness of the costumes I was forced to wear, I had much hesitancy
about going abroad. People would have taken me, I fear, for a mountebank. My coat,
much too small, was of velvet; my breeches, of stained and heavy brocaded silk, much
patched; and my hose tattered and threadbare. I was well shod, as my uncle possessed a
box of shoes and boots of curious fashion and superior workmanship, that fitted me,
even if those I wore were not always mates. But I determined I must have other
clothing.
I knew nothing of the goings on of the outside world. Now to come to the day on which I
was enlightened.
June again. I had escaped from Gaston's eye (the old man had begun to show some
signs of age), and had gone down to the highway that led to Miller's Falls. Half hid in the
bushes, I was seated, hoping to catch a glimpse of some human being, when I saw
walking down the hill a man whose appearance made my heart give a leap—a tall, broad-
shouldered figure, dressed in a sailor jacket and wide trousers. A great bundle, that he
carried as if it was a bag of feathers, was on his back, and he was whistling merrily as he
swung along the road. I knew him in an instant, and his name came to me. It was Silas
Plummer, who had been one of the crew of the Minetta. I sung out to him by name. He
came to a halt, but showed half fright upon my appearing through the bushes.
"What in the name of Moll Roe have we here?" he cried.
"It is I, Master Plummer," I answered, and I told him who I was. In my eagerness I must
have appeared half crazed, I judge, for he looked at me askance as I grasped him by the
arm.
"What are you doing, lad?" he inquired. "And how you've grown!"
In a few words, and in an incoherent fashion, I fear, I told him of my life and my virtual
imprisonment. Evidently the explanation that I made set his mind at rest in regard to my
sanity.
"Why don't you clear out?" he said. "There's a chance for a fine lad like yourself to the
southward. The sea is not far away (how my heart leapt at the word 'sea'!), and there
are great goings on there. We've taken their frigates, and given the lion's tail a twist until
it is kinked like a fouled hawser."
"What do you mean?" I inquired.
"Hear the lad!" Plummer responded, setting down his bundle and going into the pocket of
his jacket and drawing out a newspaper. "There's a war between America and England.
I'm just in off the Comet privateer. Listen to this," he said. He slapped his trousers
pocket, and it chinked to the sound of gold. "And listen here," he repeated, and he
tapped the other side. It jingled musically. "Ho, but we are getting even with them for all
their mail-stealing!"
"A war with England!" I cried, taking the paper that had "Victory!" spread across it in
large type. "Do you remember Dash, and his hand there on the deck?"
"Ay, like a glove thrown in the face of the King," said the sailor; "and the news of it is
about the world."
"Plummer," I said, "sell me some clothes. I'll pay you for them—if you'll wait." I had
hidden three or four of the gold pieces under the flat rock. "I will run and fetch you the
money," I continued, eagerly.
"Not a penny, not a farthing," answered the man, giving my shoulder a push. "Come into
the woods. I have some duds that might fit you here in my bundle."
My hands and, indeed, my knees also, were trembling so that I had to have his
assistance (a strange tiring-maid) in getting into my clothes. But in ten minutes I was
rigged out all-a-taun-to in the outfit of a swaggering privateers-man, even to the shirt
opened at the throat and the half-fathom of neckerchief. I recollect that I was crazy to
see how I looked in it.
"And here's a cap, too," he said. "It has a Portugee rake to it, but never mind; now you're
ship-shape."
He stood off and looked at me, with his head sidewise, as if I was wholly some
workmanship of his own hands.
"Anchor's atrip," he cried, imitating the shrilling of a
boatswain's whistle; "set sail and away."
"How—how can I thank you?" I said, half faltering, and
blushing, for I felt hot all over.
"By meeting me ten days from now in Stonington.
There's a crack brig, the Young Eagle, about to sail from
there; and though they'll take few greenhorns, togged
out that way you can pass muster. Ship with me, mess-
mate. I'll help you out!" He grasped my hand. "Ah,
you've got a good grip for a rope! And look at the chest
and the arm of you! Big as my own, I'll warrant."
I had never realized what a size I had become; but I had
been finding out that it was only my uncle's skill that
kept me from disarming him in our fencing-bouts of late,
and that Gaston had not laid hands on me since some
time before my illness. Now I was fully recovered and in
fine fettle. "ANCHOR'S ATRIP!" HE
"I'll go with you," I replied, grasping Plummer's hand CRIED; "SET SAIL AND
again, "and God bless you!" AWAY."
"The Young Eagle, then, at Stonington, eh?" He slapped
his pockets and started off. "I'm bound up-country to see my sweetheart," he shouted
back from over his shoulder, and I heard him chanting the "Sailor's Return" as he
disappeared about a bend in the road.
I gathered my rags and made for the brook, where I looked at myself until I became
fairly ashamed, and threw a stone at my reflection in the water. Then taking off my
clothes, I donned the old ones, and hiding my bundle beneath the old flat rock where I
kept the Robinson Crusoe, an old horse-pistol, and many treasures (including a half-score
of the De Brienne buttons), I went up to the house. I could see that my uncle was in a
strange excitement (that he was going mad I have no doubt of now). Gaston cast a
suspicious look at me, in return for which I, elated by the doings of the day, made a
threatening gesture. Of a truth, I think the man had grown afraid of me, for he cringed.
At twelve o'clock that night I was awakened by some one stirring in my room. I looked
up. It was my uncle. He was in his night-dress, and his gray hair straggled over his ears.
Held close to his side, as if it rested in a scabbard, was a narrow court sword, whose
naked blade flashed in the ray of the moonlight that came in at the curtainless window.
"No, by St. Michel, they shall not enter!" he cried, and he stopped suddenly, rigid, as if he
were listening for some one coming up the stairs. Then he turned to the bed on which I
lay.
"Arise, your Majesty!" he said. "They're upon us. Come, gentlemen, stand fast!"
Again he listened. "No, they're gone," he whispered, softly. "Is the Princess calling for
me?" He made as if to sheathe the sword, and I saw, in doing so, the sharp blade cut
into the palm of his left hand; but he paid no attention to it, and went down stairs.
To say that I had shuddered would not express it. And suddenly, as if a burst of light had
come upon me, the idea that I need no longer stay flooded my brain.
"Why, he might murder me!" I thought, the conviction coming then for the first time that
he had turned mad-man. I arose, and only putting on half my clothing and my shoes, I
lowered myself out of the window.
It was cloudless, and the moon was at the full. My shadow chased before me as I ran
down the path. Freedom! freedom! seemed to beckon me. I breathed the same sensation
that I had on that clear moonlight night when the salt breeze was in my hair, and when
the wide sea rose and fell and the little brig dashed through it—as if she had caught my
exultation of I hers.
I leaped the brook and scattered the sleeping birds out of the bushes up the banks. "Ho
for the sea! Hurrah!" I cried; and I never turned to give even a farewell look at the
Château de Belair.

[to be continued.]
 TYPICAL ENGLISH SCHOOLS.
BY JOHN CORBIN.

RUGBY.
Rugby was founded in 1567, almost two hundred years later than Winchester. Its founder
was not a great bishop and statesman, like Wykeham, and much less a King, like the
founder of Eton, but plain Lawrence Sheriff, one of the gentlemen of the Princess
Elizabeth (afterward Queen Bess), and a warden of the Grocers' Company. At first Rugby
was a mere grammar-school; and it never ranked high as a public school until Dr. Thomas
Arnold, "The Doctor" of Tom Brown's School-Days, became head master. To-day Rugby
holds firmly to its middle-class traditions. There is not a title in the whole place. The boys
are mainly the sons of midland manufacturers, and of the doctors and lawyers of the
neighboring cities.
When Dr. Arnold came to Rugby in 1837 he found about as unruly and turbulent a school
as there was in the kingdom. The "houses" were mere boarding-houses, and the
masters, who usually eked out their incomes by means of church "livings," often resided
at some vicarage or rectory in the neighborhood. Arnold, who was an old Wykehamist,
required the masters to live in the houses and govern them, as the Winchester masters
have always done. Next to the masters in authority he placed the sixth-form boys, giving
them much the same powers as the Winchester prefects and Eton captains. When there
are not enough sixth-form boys to keep order in a house, as sometimes happens, the
master selects a few of the best scholars and athletes in the fifth form, and gives them
the power and responsibility of sixth-form boys. Instead of gathering all the "scholars"
together in one "college," as is done at Winchester and Eton, each house has a fair
proportion of scholars. This plan is followed at Harrow also; and, as I mentioned in the
first of these articles, the college at Winchester is likely soon to be broken up and
scattered among the houses. As a result of this plan the Rugby "school-house"—of which
Tom Brown was a member—is made up not of a picked set of scholars, but of the same
proportion of scholars and other boys as the houses.
Arnold's admirable manner of dealing with the boys is familiar to all readers of Tom
Brown, but besides the fighting, betting, and bullying which lingered in Tom's day, Arnold
encountered a great deal of open and systematic rule-breaking. The boys used to keep
guns and beagles in the backs of shops, and employed much of their spare time in
poaching in the neighborhood. This sort of thing Arnold easily quelled by telling the
shopkeepers that he would "put their shops out of bounds"—that is, forbid the boys from
entering them, even to buy things,—if they kept on helping the boys to go poaching. The
horsy cliques among the boys caused Arnold more trouble. Rugby is in a first-rate
hunting country, so that the temptation was very great to mount a nag and go scurrying
off over fences and hedges. On one occasion, a boy who fancied himself as a steeple-
 chaser bragged that he could
give any fellow in the school
the pick of all the horses in
Rugby town and beat him. A
boy named Corbett accepted
the challenge, selecting as a
mount the best fencer he
could find. The challenger
picked the fastest horse in
town. In the race the fast
horse refused several of the
fences, so that Corbett won.
After the race the challenger
blustered so much about the
superiority of Corbett's horse
as a fencer that Corbett
challenged him to swap horses
THE SCHOOL-HOUSE QUADRANGLE—SHOWING and try another race. This
TOM BROWN'S CLOCK TOWER. time Corbett was so careful in
taking the fences that he fell
behind; yet he did not miss a single obstacle. On the homestretch he gave his speedy
animal the spurs, and, as he had planned, sported in ahead amid wild enthusiasm from
his friends. Of all this Arnold took no notice. This so elated the boys that they got up a
grand steeple-chase, for which seven horses entered. At this juncture Arnold sent for
Corbett, and told him that he had winked at the first two races only because if he had
taken any notice of it he should have had to expel both boys. He added that if the
steeple-chase came off he would expel every boy who rode or was present at it. There
was no steeple-chase. Soon after, however, a great national steeple-chase took place at
Dunchurch, a neighboring town, and Arnold "put the course in bounds" for the day. The
whole school went to see it, and every sensible and manly boy must have been won over
to his master's side.
 RUGBY SCHOOL-HOUSE FROM THE CLOSE.
Fights among the boys Arnold handled with similar moderation and firmness. It had been
the custom to settle quarrels by knock-out contests somewhere out of bounds, where
there was little or no chance of interruption. Arnold ruled that all fights should take place
within the close—that is, in the great playing-field just behind the school—every part of
which his study windows overlooked. The penalty for the breach of this rule was the
expulsion of all parties concerned. The fight between Tom Brown and Slogger Williams,
which took place in the close behind the chapel, was no child's play; but the appearance
of the Doctor at least cut it off short of manslaughter. Once fighting was put under rules,
it was in the plain road toward being suppressed altogether.
To ascribe all these reforms, and the general elevation of public opinion with regard to
the discipline of schoolboys, to Arnold's sole influence would perhaps not be just. His plan
of governing the school, as I have said, was only a modification of that which Wykeham
had framed centuries earlier for his school at Winchester. In only one particular did
Arnold attempt to improve on Wykeham's plan. He tried to make the sixth form report
offenders to him for punishment. In the few cases in which this was done the informers
lost caste forever. The sixth form would lick offenders, as upper boys have done, I
suppose, ever since Wykeham's day, but they wouldn't blab. It shows what a good plan
Wykeham established, that even Arnold couldn't better it. Arnold's ideas about influencing
his upper boys he seems also to have learned at Winchester. When he was himself an
upper boy his master once set him to construe a hard passage in Thucydides, of whom
he was so fond that later he edited his works. When his master objected to the
rendering, Arnold stood up for it stoutly, even obstinately. "Very well," said the master,
quietly, "we will have some one who will construe it my way." Some hours after school
Arnold came to the master looking very crestfallen. "I have come to tell you, sir, that I
have found out I was wrong." "Ay, Arnold," said the master, holding out his hand in
forgiveness, "I knew you would come." The question of kneeling to pray in the dormitory,
over which Tom Brown struggled so manfully in defence of Arthur, cropped out at other
public schools at the same time and even earlier. In a word, Arnold's mastership at Rugby
fell in a time when all matters of life not only in public schools, but in general society,
were being elevated and purified. The prominent place which Rugby took in the general
movement was due partly to the fact that it was the most turbulent of the schools, and
partly to the fact that of all head masters Arnold was the most manly, devout, and
beloved.
Since Arnold's time, the work he began has been carried steadily on. To-day the boys
break bounds chiefly to go bicycling or to take a swim in the Avon. Bullying is almost
entirely a thing of the past. Of the old fighting spirit little remains. The very site of Tom's
famous encounter is now occupied by the chancel of the new chapel, and choir-boys sing
whereof old Rattle, in his thunder-and-lightning waist-coat, wagered "two to one in half-
crowns on the big 'un." All this, of course, is as it should be; but one of the masters
admitted to me that spite and backbiting are probably commoner than they were in the
days of black eyes and bloody noses. I could not help suspecting that if Tom Brown were
to come back to his old haunts he would find life pretty dull, and perhaps even hanker for
another encounter with the bully Flashman. It would be a capital joke, I often think, to
make a born reformer live in a place that was just as he liked it.
All the dearest associations at Rugby, at any rate, have to do with the fight that was
fought in Arnold's time, and the most sacred landmarks and customs are those which are
mentioned in Tom Brown. As you are shown through the school-house your guide points
out the "double study"—fully five feet by six—which is said to have been occupied by Tom
and Arthur. The boys who use it now, I am certain, never doubt that an actual Tom
Brown once lived in it. In the corridor, to be sure, the top of the old hall table, with T.
HUGHES carved boldly upon it in capitals, is hung reverently upon the wall; but the
explanation of this is precisely that which a schoolboy once gave to the question of the
authorship of Homer. If Tom Brown's School-Days was not about Tom Brown, it was
about another boy of the same name.
In one of the dormitories you will find the oak table on top of which new boys were—and
still are—made to sing. The rule is that they must stand with their legs as wide astraddle
as possible, and hold a lighted candle in each hand. Your guide will show you the tin
candle-guards or "parishes" in which the candles were held. On the table beside the boy
is always placed a jug of drink, composed of beer, salt, mustard, soap, and other savory
ingredients, a swallow of which the new boy is made to gulp down if he fails to sing a
song. About the walls of the room are ranged eleven little oak cots, beside one of which
Arthur most certainly knelt to pray on his first night in school. Or if you insist that Arthur
never lived, why, then, you remember that every fellow has knelt down, or wished he
dared to, on his first night of homesickness in a strange, rough place.
The school-house dining-room stands almost exactly as it stood in Tom Brown's days.
There are tables all around the sides, and a table in the middle. The small boys sit about
the side tables, and, as the years go by, move gradually around the room, until at last
they are admitted to the middle table. To sit here means much more than merely being in
the sixth form. At the side of the hall is the fireplace where Flashman roasted Tom for
refusing to sell the lottery ticket on Harkaway; and the very benches stand beside it upon
which the bully's head struck, a few days later, when Tom and East finally got the better
of him. From the dining-room there are two doors leading into the quad, one through a
long and difficult passage, and the other opening directly upon it. The little boys who sit
at the side tables have to go out through the long passage; only the big boys at the
middle table can go out directly. For a little boy to go out through the big boys' door
would be unheard-of arrogance. This, Rugbeians think, is an excellent custom, both
because it existed in Tom Brown's time, and because it teaches boys their places. When I
told my guide that it reminded me of the farmer who had a big hole in his barn door for
his cat, and a little hole for his kitten, I think he thought me irreverent.
Across the court, outside the hall, are the turret stairs leading up to the school-rooms
where Arnold met his sixth form. Many a man who is now old and gray remembers these
rooms as the place where he learned more about obedience and more about ruling
vigorously and justly than he might ever have known except for his head master at
Rugby. The walls of the rooms are covered with old table-tops, upon which are carved
the names of these ancient Rugbeians. The tables now in use are untouched. If a boy
carves so much as his initials, he has to have the wood planed and polished, or pay the
price of a new table. Fame, you see, comes harder nowadays.
We walk out at last into the ample close. The three trees which used to stand within the
football-field are all gone; and many another well-known tree was blown over in a recent
wind-storm. Still, there are plenty left for shade, and though one always grudges an old
and beautiful landmark, perhaps the football and cricket fields are better. To an American,
the Rugby close will always be of interest as the birthplace and original home of that
form of football which gave rise to our own familiar game; but if he has read Tom Brown
in his boyhood, he will think of it rather as the place where Tom made his entry to Rugby
life in the big-side football game, and where, with Arthur on his eleven, he played his
final game of cricket. About the close the pleasantest memories of the school hover; and
of all public schools Rugby is the one which appeals most strongly to the democratic
instincts of an American. Here boys are equal not only by custom, as at Eton, but by
birth; and here many generations have learned to value themselves, in Arnold's phrase,
as Christians, gentlemen, and scholars.
To speak of the other public schools—Harrow, Westminster, Shrewsbury, Marlborough,
Wellington, Clifton, Repton, and the rest—would of course be interesting, but I could
scarcely hope to illustrate more clearly what a public school really is. At all of them the
boys live in "houses," much as men at the universities live in colleges. At all the discipline
is more strict than is usual at our preparatory schools, and at all the older boys have
power to flog the younger, and are responsible for their good behavior. To an American
the discipline seems too strict to be compatible with real independence, and the idea of a
big boy flogging a little one is brutal. Certainly it is not well for an American boy to be
sent to school in England. Yet granted the strictness with which English parents bring up
their children, and the careful watch which is kept on young men at the universities, the
public-school system seems to me the best that could possibly be devised. Independence
of character and the power of using opportunities are perhaps not to be looked for
among English schoolboys; but from their stricter rules they learn obedience and self-
restraint, while from the exercise of power the older boys learn to govern justly and with
decision.
 A GIRL'S BRAVE ACT.
"She will bear the marks of her fight the rest of her life." The doctor who made this
observation referred to Miss Anna McDowell, a young girl of nineteen, who by her heroic
act on the afternoon of November 22 has gained an enviable reputation for bravery and
presence of mind. The heroine is a resident of Quakake Valley, Pennsylvania. A small
trout stream runs through the valley, skirting the main road. This stream was a source of
delight to little three-year-old Nettie Hinckle, who constantly played on its banks and
fished in its waters. Nettie was fishing on the afternoon of the 22d when a whir of wings
startled her, and looking up she saw a giant bald-head eagle flying savagely towards her.
With screams of fright she started to run, but the bird fought her back with his beak and
talons.
Miss McDowell, who was passing, heard the screams and hastened to the bank of the
stream. Without hesitating, she seized the child and tore her away from the eagle. This
apparently served to enrage the bird further, and, defeated in its attempt to carry off the
child, it turned its attention to the rescuer. It circled around, tearing at her with his beak
and talons in the most ferocious manner.
Nettie had fallen down on the ground, and the young girl stooped over, guarding her, at
the same time vainly trying to ward off the bird's attacks. The bird grew more and more
furious, and repeatedly dashed at the girl, cutting ugly gashes in her shoulders and head.
Without any other means of defence, she used her arms to fight his onslaughts, but
strength was fast leaving her what with loss of blood and her high nervous state of
excitement.
In the struggle her hat became loose, and instantly she thought of her hat-pin. It was
one of the usual long, thin, steel pins, and drawing it out she defended herself with it
against the savage bird, who, regardless of the stabs she gave, flew at her with renewed
fury. Her heart failed her and her strength was nearly gone. Why did not somebody
come? The bird had circled off, and was coming at her with a wild swoop, his beak half
open ready to tear, and his talons extended.
She grasped him around the neck as he struck at her, and holding him with all the
strength she had left, she thrust the hat-pin into his head, fortunately killing him. At the
same moment her senses left her, and she stumbled forward on the ground, falling on
the dead bird. Little Nettie ran screaming to her house, a short distance away, and people
hurried to the scene. They tenderly lifted the brave girl up and took care of her, as the
bird had inflicted some bad wounds. Miss McDowell proposes to have the bird stuffed to
keep in her room as a memento of the occasion, but the memory of her brave act will
never be forgotten by the people of her neighborhood.
 FAMOUS CAVALRY CHARGES.
AT BEVERLY FORD.

BY RICHARD BARRY.
It is a fact that has been noted by many historians, in writing of the actions in the civil
war, that the sabre wounds that were reported at the hospital were few and far between.
This is easily accounted for in the first two years of the war, for the reason that the
Confederates, from whom the Union forces learned the severest kind of lessons, used
their cavalry forces as dragoons, or mounted infantry. The celerity with which they moved
bodies on horseback from one point to another caused consternation throughout the
North. General McClellan, who had been, it must be confessed, not very much impressed
with the need of a cavalry force, at last declared himself as almost helpless without this
assistance; and from this time on this branch of the service received the attention so long
denied it.
Although the Confederates could rightly point with pride to their well-organized cavalry
divisions, there can be no record prouder than that of the First Cavalry Division, known as
Buford's Cavalry. To quote from the writings of Brigadier-General Wesley Merritt, "Its
history shows that from the time of its organization until the end of the war it captured
more men, horses, guns, and munitions than would equip it twice over, and yet that
during this time it never suffered a surprise, never lost a wheel captured by the enemy,
and never met the enemy but to defeat it."
From the very day of the new organization that took place under General Hooker the
cavalry force of the Army of the Potomac began to live and move, and the contempt that
the victorious Southern horsemen held for the riders of the North slowly diminished, until
in its place was the respect born of fear.
The Richmond Examiner, one of the strongest journals of the Confederacy, thus speaks of
the new order of things that began to exist. This extract is taken from that issue which
speaks of the great cavalry fight at Beverly Ford:
"If the war was a tournament, invented and supported for the pleasure and profit of a
few vain and weak-headed officers, these disasters might be dismissed with compassion;
but the country pays dearly for the blunders which encourage the enemy to overrun and
devastate the land with a cavalry which is daily learning to despise the mounted troops of
the Confederacy. It is high time that this branch of the service should be reformed.
"The surprise of this occasion was the most complete that has occurred. The Confederate
cavalry was carelessly strewn over the country, with the Rappahannock only between it
and an enemy who has always proven his enterprise to our cost. It is said that its camp
was supposed to be secure, because the Rappahannock was not supposed to be fordable
at the point where it was actually forded. What? Do Yankees, then, know more about this
river than our own soldiers, who have done nothing but ride up and down its banks for
the last six months?
"They knew at least the weather was dry, the water low, and that fifteen or twenty horse,
confident from impunity and success, were on the other side. They could not have failed
to know this much, and they were surprised, caught at breakfast, made prisoners on
foot, with guns empty and horses grazing. Although the loss was insignificant, the events
of that morning were among the least creditable that have occurred. Later, some of our
best officers sacrificed their lives to redeem the day. A very fierce fight ensued, in which
it is said, for the first time in this war, a considerable number of sabre wounds were given
and received. In the end, the enemy retired or was driven—it is not yet clearly known
which—across the river. Nor is it certainly known whether the fortunate result was
achieved by the cavalry alone or with the assistance of Confederate infantry in the
neighborhood."
From this account it may be seen that the Confederates regarded this action as a
surprise. Maybe it was, but the Union forces had been preparing for it for some time.
Some of the divisions had been in the saddle, moving from one point to another, for
hours, in full sight of the Confederates on the further side of the Rappahannock.
At early dawn on the 9th of June, 1863, the Second Cavalry, with the Fifth leading the
regular brigade, moved out. But one small brigade had passed over the river before
them, led by Colonel B. F. Davis, of the Eighth New York. With the muddied water of the
river up to their saddle-girths, several thousand men forded the stream without
opposition, and climbed the bank to the level land beyond, where the Southern army was
making ready with great haste to meet the advance of the wide blue lines.
No sooner had the first division formed than a volley broke out from the fringe of timber
at the edge of the rising land, and in a charge upon the enemy that had now marched
into sight, Davis had fallen, mortally wounded. This was the news that greeted the First,
Second, and Fifth as they ranged up from the river and climbed this slippery bank,
furrowed deep by the hoof-marks of the hundreds of horsemen that had preceded them.
It was about five o'clock in the morning, and with this advance commenced the most
memorable cavalry combat ever placed on record in any war. For twelve hours' time the
struggle continued, and it was not until seven o'clock that the Second Cavalry left the
field. Brave Captain Canfield fell dead, shot through the body. Captain Rodenbough, who
had been despatched to the front, found his squadron hotly engaged. Dismounting his
men and taking possession of a stone wall, he defended it against attacks of more than
ten times his number, until his command was relieved by the squadron under command
of Captain Loeser.
But the well-directed artillery fire and the singing bullets of the Confederate sharp-
shooters from the hill were playing havoc with the waiting ranks of the men in blue, who,
awaiting the general orders to advance, moved from one position to another as the
Confederate artillerists got range of them. At last the long-hoped-for order came from
General Buford, and the cavalry was ordered to advance and charge the batteries and
riflemen in the woods. The men on foot were captured in their improvised defences, and
forward rolled the Union line, a battery of artillery keeping company with them. Now for
some time commenced an artillery battle, and then again the order was given to charge.
The column of platoons under rapid motion were broken into fours to avoid a fence, and
man after man scrambled over a sunken road, and then stopping only for half a moment,
rapidly to reform, hot of foot and shouting, they rode with drawn sabres upon the
hitherto invincible Southerners, who, seated on their horses, had been waiting the order
to advance themselves.
It is a rule of cavalry fighting that no force of horsemen ever meet another force while
standing still, for with the impetus of quick movement those in motion have force that
would make up greatly for lack of numbers. Unfortunately for the Confederates their
regiment that had charged the Union skirmishers, halted and broke before the main body
of troopers as they came flying up the hill, and now ensued one of the strangest
happenings of the war—the Southern line, stampeded and broken, was mingled with the
horsemen of the North. Sabre blows and pistol-shots rang on every hand. No one halted
to make prisoners, but riding on in one great fighting charge, it became an individual
conflict, the victor never pausing to see how well he had done his work, but surging in
the wild rush for a fresh foeman worthy of his steel.
The Captains, Lieutenants, non-commissioned officers, privates, fought boot to boot.
Through the fierce heat and dust and smoke could be heard the chough of the sabre or
the cracking of the revolver. Up the hill and across the plateau to the crest of the ridge
they fought it out. So weakened had the men's sword-arms become from continual blows
and parrying, that oftentimes two troopers of opposing sides rode on together, neither
having the strength to unhorse the other.
Rodenbough, a good swordsman, who had lost his best horse early in the action, found
himself opposite a tall Virginian, who also knew his sword-play, and succeeded in
wounding the gallant Captain. But an instant later he was brought to the ground by a
stroke of Rodenbough's sabre. Captain Loeser was severely wounded, and his two
Lieutenants also.
 SABRE BLOWS AND PISTOL SHOTS RANG ON EVERY HAND.
Although the charge had swept everything before it, or at least along with it, it was seen,
when the top of the hill was gained, that fresh bodies of troops were hurrying up from
beyond in order to take advantage of the confusion of the Union line. Obeying the
hurried orders of their officers and the call of the bugle, the Second whirled about and
returned to the rolling ground in order to reform and be in better condition to meet the
enemy. This regiment had defeated in its charge, in a hand-to-hand fight, more than
double its own number; its losses had been terrible, but soon it was in condition to fight
once more. But now the battle had been renewed by the enemy's firing rifle and carbine
from the woods on the south. To quote from what General Wesley Merritt says of his
personal adventures during the charge:
"The charge was begun with the sabre, of course; but when the enemy broke and fled, a
number of us in advance drew our pistols, and enforced our demands for surrender by
rapid shots with our revolvers, still riding at a charge, with sabres in hand. I had emptied
my revolver, and before returning it, rode at an officer whom, in the dust and smoke, I
thought to be refusing to surrender to one of my men. I brought my sabre to a point,
with the remark, 'Colonel, you are my prisoner!' His reply was more forcible than
courteous, as, after a moment's surprise, he made a cut at my head with his sabre. I
partially parried the cut, and at the same time Lieutenant Quirk called to me that we
were surrounded and alone. The rebels, who were all around us, then commenced a
rapid fire with their pistols, and must have been surprised to see Lieutenant Quirk and
myself, in spite of their firing and orders to surrender, ride safely back to the regiment. A
kindly Hibernian of the Second made good my only personal loss by giving me the hat off
his own head. From a description of the officer who didn't surrender on this occasion,
General Buford was of the opinion that it was Colonel (afterwards General) Wade
Hampton."
He also related the following episode, which shows how close and upon what intimate
relations the conflict had continued:
"As Sergeant-major Delacour was assisting Lieutenant Lennox from under fire, a
horseman in gray rode up and fired at the officer, who said, 'Don't shoot; I'm wounded!'
With an oath the Confederate emptied another barrel of his revolver within a few feet of
Lennox's head, when Delacour, pausing, drew his pistol, fired, and as the unfortunate
tumbled off his horse, coolly remarked, 'And now you are wounded.'"
The account of every regiment was a repetition of this, except that the Second engaged
more men and suffered a heavier loss. Late in the day it was relieved by the Sixth United
States Cavalry—one of the few regular bodies of mounted men in the service which was
not separated into small detachments.
But it was a great day for the mounted forces of the Union army. Major-General Henry J.
Hunt, Chief of Artillery of the Army of the Potomac, says, in referring to this action: "This
was in the main a true cavalry battle, and enabled the Federals to dispute the superiority
hitherto claimed and conceded to the Confederate cavalry. Stuart reported his losses at
485, of whom 301 were killed and wounded. Pleasanton reports an aggregate loss of
907, of whom 421 were wounded."
The Second Cavalry alone lost, out of 225 men who were engaged, 68 in killed and
wounded, and 73 horses killed or disabled. "From that day," says Merritt, "the prestige of
the Confederate cavalry was broken and its superiority gone forever."
In a volume called A Rebel War-clerk's Diary occurs the following entry: "The surprise of
Stuart on the Rappahannock has chilled every heart. Notwithstanding it does not appear
that we have lost more men in the encounter, the question is on every tongue, 'Have our
Generals relaxed in vigilance?' If so, sad is the prospect."
Although the fact of this combat did not check Lee's advance materially, it gave a
confidence to our troops that bore fruit afterwards.

The annual Thanksgiving-day game between Berkeley School and St. Paul's, Garden City,
resulted in a victory of 24-2 for St. Paul's. The Long-Islanders fairly outclassed the
Berkeley players, who have not been quite up to the standard this year. If it had not been
for carelessness on the part of Pettit, Berkeley would not have scored. By lack of
judgment on the part of this half-back at a critical moment, St. Paul's was forced to make
a safety.
The feature of the game was Starr's kicking of goals. He had four chances, and accepted
them all, two of them being at good angles. Berkeley had the kick-off, and Bien sent the
ball down to St. Paul's twenty-five-yard line, whence Pettit made a run of twenty yards
before he was stopped. The ball was kept going by steady advances, until it was carried
across the line. S. Starr caught the ball on the next kick-off, and ran thirty-five yards,
protected by good interference. When he was downed, the ball was within fifteen yards
of the line, and by a couple of plunges through the centre, and Starr around the left end,
St. Paul's scored again.
There was no more scoring in the first half, but these figures were duplicated in the early
part of the second. It was in the latter part of the second half, too, that Berkeley scored.
It was Berkeley's ball on the third down, and a pass was made to Bien for a punt. The
leather sailed over into Pettit's territory, and he caught it on St. Paul's ten-yard line, but
was so slow in handling it that Berkeley was down on him before he realized what had
happened, and they had shoved him across the line for a safety. Apparently the St. Paul's
rushers were so anxious to get through and stop the kick that they did not think of
protecting their back. It is not fair to place all the responsibility for the misplay upon
Pettit.
Another exciting and interesting Thanksgiving-day game was that between Brooklyn High
and Poly. Prep., played at Eastern Park, the victory going to the High-School, 6-0. This
match developed as good football as has been seen in Brooklyn this fall, and the teams
proved to be very evenly matched. In the first half it would have been difficult to decide
which was the better eleven, but in the second half the Poly. Prep. line weakened a trifle,
and the High-School backs were sent through at centre and tackle for repeated gains.
The High-School team was slightly the heavier, and this advantage is accountable for the
work of the line-men during the latter part of the game.
The only touch-down of the day was scored almost at the close of the second half. By
mass plays the ball had been brought down into Poly. Prep.'s territory, and from the five-
yard line Geirasch was shoved over for a touch-down. Some exciting play followed this,
Poly. Prep. having secured the ball on the High-School's twenty-five-yard line by a fumble.
They took a tremendous brace, and rushed the leather fifteen yards, but the High-School
players pulled themselves together at this point, got the ball on downs, and the game
closed with neither goal in danger.
The championship of the Long Island League was not affected by the result of this game,
inasmuch as St. Paul's had practically secured first place by defeating Brooklyn High, 8-0,
on November 12. St. Paul's had no easy time of it with the Brooklyn players, and only
managed to score once. This was done in the first half with good centre plays, S. Starr
being shoved across the line. The other two points resulted from a safety by the High-
School.
The championship of the Cook County High-School Football League has been won by
Englewood H.-S., the deciding game being against Hyde Park, 38-6. Both teams played
good football, and although Hyde Park was in some respects outclassed, the men
nevertheless worked hard, and succeeded in not being shut out altogether.
Most of Englewood's gains were made around the ends, the Hyde Park line being
stronger than had been anticipated. Teetzel, as usual, proved the star player of the day,
and made one unusually good run. This was in the second half, when he was sent
through Hyde Park's tackle, and after clearing his hole and dodging the half-backs, he put
down the field for sixty yards, and scored. The team-work of Englewood was better than
has been developed by that eleven in any previous game; and as for individual work,
Henry and Ferguson deserve mention. Henry followed the interference well, and got
through the Hyde Park line whenever he had the ball. Ferguson's strong point was in
protecting the runner.
The best work for Hyde Park was done by Captain Linden, who got into every play, and
made a gain almost every time he took the ball. He did the scoring for his side. He took
the leather on Englewood's twenty-five-yard line three times in succession, making short
gains at every plunge, and finally managed to get himself pushed across the line. This is
only the second time that Englewood has been scored against in a League football game
this year.
The Chicago High-School Football-Players seem to have little pride in making any kind of
a showing against out-of-town teams, if we may judge from the performance of
Englewood against Elgin, and of Hyde Park against Madison. The Englewood High-School
had a game scheduled with Elgin for Thanksgiving day, but as soon as they had won the
Cook County championship the eleven disbanded. Manager Knox was at his wits' end to
get a team to go to Elgin, and only succeeded in enlisting the services of three of the
regular players, filling the other positions as best he could.
Of course this was not a High-School eleven, and had no right to represent itself as such.
The Elgin players even claim that one of the men who came along with Manager Knox's
patch-work team had played this year with Lake Forest University. The Elgin eleven was
the same that has represented that school all season, and which has not been defeated.
The game against Englewood, or rather against the eleven that was masquerading in
Englewood's colors, ended in a dispute, and was awarded to Elgin. The best element
among students at Englewood believe that if the regular team had gone to represent the
school the result would have been different. As it is, however, Elgin claims the
championship of the Illinois High-Schools.
The Hyde Park H.-S. football-players also went out of training as soon as they had been
defeated by Englewood for the Cook County championship. Consequently, when they
were called upon to play against Madison High-School, it was impossible to get the
regular eleven men together, and a few outsiders were taken in to make up the team. As
might have been expected, the influence of these outsiders was of the worst possible
kind, and they resorted to methods during the game which would not have been
countenanced by the regular players.
This sort of thing brings a bad reputation to the Chicago High-School football-players. Of
course this is to be regretted, but it is richly deserved, and unless some of the better
element take a hand and introduce rigid reforms in matters athletic, things will go from
bad to worse, and the spirit of semi-professionalism, which has proved such a dangerous
thing in other quarters, will effect the ruin of sport in Chicago.
The championship of the High-School football teams of Wisconsin and Minnesota was
won by the Madison High-School, which defeated the Minneapolis South Side H.-S., 21-0.
Both teams played good, hard football, but Madison, although the lighter of the two
elevens, had the better system, and plunged through its opponents for repeated gains.
Captain Dean of Madison massed his plays on tackles, where he was very successful in
gaining ground. The best work for Minneapolis was done in the second half, and their
gains were chiefly obtained around the ends. The feature of the game was a goal from
the field, kicked by Anderson of Madison H.-S., toward the end of the first half. Madison
had forced the ball down to their opponents' 20-yard line, but Minneapolis here took a
brace and managed to hold. The ball was then passed back for a kick, and Anderson
succeeded in making a beautiful goal. Some of the best work for Madison was done by
Wheeler and Curtis at tackle, and by Nelson, who made many fierce plunges through the
Minneapolis centre. Davis at centre held well on the defence, and likewise put up a
strong offensive game. The best work for Minneapolis was done by Von Schlegell. He did
excellent work in the interference, and tackled hard and low; he likewise made a number
of gains around the ends. Other good work for Minneapolis was done by Dumas and
Shepley.
It is announced that again this year the Knickerbocker Athletic Club will hold a large in-
door interscholastic track-athletic meeting. The success of last year's venture will
probably help to make the coming occasion one of the biggest interscholastic affairs in
any city of the country this winter, and if it is properly conducted it ought certainly to
achieve this distinction. I believe it has already been decided that last year's experiment
of a dirt track in the Madison Square Garden will not be tried again, and that at the
coming meeting the runs will be held on a board flooring. In addition to securing entries
from the schools of Boston, Philadelphia, Hartford, New Haven, and other near
institutions, an attempt will be made to induce the young athletes of Baltimore,
Washington, and possibly Chicago to compete. If this could be done, the meeting would
be fully as representative as the National Interscholastic out-door meeting of last June.

EXETER FOOTBALL SQUAD.

 ANDOVER FOOTBALL ELEVEN.

ANDOVER VS. LAWRENCEVILLE—THE BALL ON

ANDOVER'S THREE-YARD LINE.
When Exeter and Andover determined to renew their athletic relations, they drew up a
set of rules to govern their meetings in the future; and as the paragraphs adopted by the
two schools seem to be of considerable importance for the welfare of amateur sport, I
give them below:

The undersigned, representatives of the Phillips Andover and Phillips Exeter Athletic
Associations, agree on the following regulations to govern all contests between the
two Associations for the period of one year—from October, 1896, to July, 1897,
inclusive:
1. There shall be annual contests between the two Associations in football, base-ball,
track athletics, and tennis.
2. The dates for these contests shall be arranged from year to year by the managers
of the several Associations, and announced six weeks before the contest.
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