[13] “With four strong men and Sisson, a powerful negro ... Barton ascended the stairs, and gently tried the door. It was locked; no time was to be lost ... the negro drew back ... and using his head for a battering-ram, burst open the door at the first effort.”—_Idem._ [14] “The general supposing the intruders to be robbers, sprang from his bed, and seized his gold watch that was hanging upon the wall. Barton ... told him he was his prisoner, and that perfect silence was now his only safety.”—_Idem._ [15] “Prescott begged time to dress, but it being a hot July night, and time precious, Barton refused acquiescence, feeling that it would not be cruel to take him ... where he could make his toilet ... at his leisure. So, throwing his cloak around him ... the prisoner was hurried to the shore.”—_Idem._ [16] “Prescott’s aid, hearing the noise in the general’s room, leaped from a window to escape, but was captured.”—_Idem._ [17] “At Warwick Point ... Prescott first broke the silence by saying to Col. Barton: ‘Sir, you have made a bold push, to-night.’ ‘We have been fortunate,’ coolly replied Barton. Captain Elliot was there with a coach to convey the prisoners to Providence.”—_Idem._ [18] “For that service Congress honored him by the presentation of a sword, and also by a grant of land in Vermont.”—_Idem_, p. 75. _Note._ [19] “And on the 24th of December following he was promoted to the rank and pay of colonel in the Continental army.”—_Idem_, p. 77. MISCELLANEOUS. A SONG ON SINGING. A SUPPOSED IMPROMPTU. The board is bare, the lights are low, My songs are sung, but, ere we go, One more I bring, and answer so Your kindly plaudits ringing. No wealth and rank belong to me, But yet, where thought and word are free, The voice alone a power may be, And rule the world by singing. How oft, of old, when reign’d the wrong, And rare and regal rose in song, The call sublime that roused the strong From hut and hamlet springing, Like avalanches launch’d in might, Where thunder shakes an Alpine height, Resistless down its path of white, Has right been led by singing. How oft, when sounds of war awoke, And wide as earth a vision broke Of sword and gun in flash and smoke, And flags o’er freemen springing; Where few escaped the foeman’s power, As fail’d the chief and fell the tower, The land has yet survived the hour When nerved anew by singing. All else, at last, with death may meet,— Brave hearts whose hopes had made them beat, Like moats beneath the soldiers’ feet, When victory’s cheers are ringing; But e’en the dead whose deeds inspire The minstrel, o’er the grave or pyre May rise, like Israel’s cloud of fire, And lead their race through singing.