Now let us come nearer home, and recal the name of Martha Bratton. She was a woman for any country to be proud of, for she helped, hand and heart, in establishing the freedom of her native country. Her husband was a Colonel in the first army of America, and in his absence she took charge of, and defended the ammunition and supplies. Think of her courage in blowing up the powder, rather than suffer it to fall into the enemy's hands! Think of her nobility avowing the act that no one else might suffer for it. Threats of instant death had no power to make her betray a trust. And she was a womanly woman too, for she saved the life of an English officer, who had rescued her by his intervention, and kept him concealed in her house till he was exchanged. Grizel Cochrane! It's not a romantic name, but what a romance in her life. Her father lay a prisoner in the Tolbooth of Edinburgh, condemned to death for high treason. Her grandfather, the Earl of Dundonald; was moving heaven and earth to obtain his son's pardon. But it was known that the warrant for his execution was on its way from London. Grizel was only eighteen. But she was strong and resolute. She rode on her own fleet horse two days on the road to England, where a trusty friend lent her a suit of man's clothes and a pair of pistols. Thus armed, she attacked the postman, robbed him of the mail bags, and destroyed her father's death warrant. The time thus gained saved his life. A better Grizel this, I think, than the celebrated Grizel who is so often held up as a model of womanly virtues. Think of the peasant girl, inspired by spirit voices, throwing aside the timidity of her country breeding, her youth, and her sex, adopting the costume of a soldier, heading the armies of France, leading them to victory, and placing the national crown upon the head of the feeble Dauphin, much more of a girl than herself. Then change the scene, and behold the bigoted and fanatical priests conspiring against her; see her abandoned by her friends; abandoned even by the English whom she had conquered; see her at last led forth to the fatal pile, and her ashes cast into the Seine. How different, yet how grand, is the gentle Heloise, more remarkable for her faithful affection, than for her learning and talents, choosing rather to be dishonored in the world's estimation, than to injure her craven husband by avowing their marriage. What Roman or Spartan mother excelled in heroism that Lady Seton, who, while she saw from the beleagured tower the preparations of the brutal English king to put her two sons to death, urged her wavering husband rather to let them die for their country, than to save their lives by ignoble surrender of his great trust. Her sons were murdered, but her husband was not dishonored, and the town was saved.