“Harvey Birch,” he said, turning to the stranger, “the time has arrived when our connection must cease; henceforth and forever we must be strangers.” The peddler dropped the folds of the greatcoat that concealed his features, and gazed for a moment earnestly at the face of the speaker; then dropping his head upon his bosom, he said meekly: “If it be your Excellency’s pleasure.” “It is necessary. Since I have filled the station which I now hold, it has become my duty to know many men, who, like yourself, have been my instruments in procuring intelligence. You have I trusted more than all; I early saw in you a regard to truth and principle, that, I am pleased to say, has never deceived me--you alone know my secret agents in the city, and on your fidelity depend, not only their fortunes, but their lives.” He paused, as if to reflect, in order that full justice might be done to the peddler, and then continued: “I believe you are one of the very few that I have employed who have acted faithfully to our cause; and, while you have passed as a spy of the enemy, have never given intelligence that you were not permitted to divulge. To me and to me only of all the world, you seem to have acted with a strong attachment to the liberties of America.” During this address Harvey gradually raised his head from his bosom, until it reached the highest point of elevation; a faint tinge gathered in his cheeks, and, as the officer concluded, it was diffused over his whole countenance in a deep glow, while he stood proudly swelling with his emotions, but with eyes that modestly sought the feet of the speaker. “It is now my duty to pay you for these services; hitherto you have postponed receiving your reward, and the debt has become a heavy one--I wish not to undervalue your dangers: here are a hundred doubloons; you will remember the poverty of our country, and attribute to it the smallness of your pay.” The peddler raised his eyes to the countenance of the speaker, but, as the other held forth the money, he moved back, as if refusing the bag. “It is not much for your services and risks, I acknowledge,” continued the General, “but it is all that I have to offer; at the end of the campaign it may be in my power to increase it.” “Does your Excellency think that I have exposed my life, and blasted my character, for money?” “If not for money, what then?” “What has brought your Excellency into the field? For what do you daily and hourly expose your precious life to battle and the halter? What is there about me to mourn, when such men as you risk their all for our country? No, no, no, not a dollar of your gold will I touch; poor America has need of it all!” The bag dropped from the hand of the officer, and fell at the feet of the peddler, where it lay neglected during the remainder of the interview. The officer looked steadily at the face of his companion, and continued: