Then up stept this young hero, John Pawling was his name, “Sir, tell us where you’re going, and also whence you came?” “I bear the British flag, sir; I’ve a pass to go this way, I’m on an expedition, and have no time to stay.” Then round him came this company, and bid him to dismount; “Come tell us where you’re going, give us a strict account; For we are now resolved that you shall ne’er pass by.” Upon examination they found he was a spy. He begged for his liberty, he plead for his discharge, And oftentimes he told them, if they’d set him at large, “Here’s all the gold and silver I have laid up in store, But when I reach the city, I’ll give you ten times more.” “I want not the gold and silver you have laid up in store, And when you get to New York you need not send us more. But you may take your sword in hand, to gain your liberty, And if that you do conquer me, O, then you shall be free.” “The time it is improper our valor for to try, For if we take our swords in hand, then one of us must die; I am a man of honor, with courage brave and bold, And I fear not the face of clay, although ’tis clothed in gold.” He saw that his conspiracy would soon be brought to light; He begg’d for pen and paper, and asked leave to write A line to _General Arnold_, to let him know his fate, And beg for his assistance; but now it was too late. When the news it came to Arnold, it put him in a fret; He walk’d the room in trouble, till tears his cheeks did wet; The story soon went thro’ the camp, and also thro’ the fort; And he called for the Vulture, and sailed for New-York. Now Arnold to New York has gone, a fighting for his king, And left poor Major Andre, on the gallows for to swing; When he was executed, he look’d both meek and mild; He look’d on his spectators, and pleasantly he smiled. It moved each eye with pity, caused every heart to bleed; And every one wish’d him released and Arnold in his stead. He was a man of honor, in Britain he was born; To die upon the gallows most highly he did scorn. A bumper to JOHN PAWLING! now let your voices sound, Fill up your flowing glasses, and drink his health around; Also to those young gentlemen who bore him company; Success to North America, ye sons of liberty! In connection with this we give a specimen of the minstrelsy of the other party. The British and Tories were not often in a singing mood, and their ballads, with few exceptions, are inferior in spirit and temper to those of the Whigs. There is some wit, however, in the following, which is said to have been written by Major Andre— THE COW CHASE. PART I. To drive the kine one summer’s morn, The tanner[11] took his way, The calf shall rue that is unborn The jumbling of that day.