So far as I can learn he was killed on the slope of the Palisade ridge, not far from what is known as the Ridgefield station, on the Northern Railroad, and by a long shot. It was merely fired in vexation by Van Valen, who was astonished when the partisan fell, and hesitated for some time to verify the fact of his death. Jack’s band at that time had been broken up, or he was in some disgrace; for he had had apparently no command for some time before he was killed, and was with but one companion at the time. _JACK, THE REGULAR._ In the Bergen winter night, when the hickory fire is roaring, Flickering streams of ruddy light on the folk before it pouring; When the apples pass around, and the cider passes after, And the well-worn jest is crowned by the hearers’ hearty laughter, When the cat is purring there, and the dog beside her dozing, And within his easy-chair sits the grandsire old, reposing, Then they tell the story true to the children hushed and eager, How the two Van Valens slew, on a time, the Tory leaguer, Jack, the Regular. Near a hundred years ago, when the maddest of the Georges Sent his troops to scatter woe on our hills and in our gorges, Less we hated, less we feared, those he sent here to invade us Than the neighbors with us reared who opposed us or betrayed us; And amid those loyal knaves who rejoiced in our disasters, As became the willing slaves of the worst of royal masters, Stood John Berry, and he said that a regular commission Set him at his comrades’ head; so we called him, in derision, “Jack, the Regular.” When he heard it—“Let them fling! Let the traitors make them merry With the fact my gracious king deigns to make me Captain Berry. I will scourge them for the sneer, for the venom that they carry; I will shake their hearts with fear, as the land around I harry; They shall find the midnight raid waking them from fitful slumbers; They shall find the ball and blade daily thinning out their numbers; Barn in ashes, cattle slain, hearth on which there glows no ember, Neatless plough and horseless wain—thus the rebels shall remember Jack, the Regular. Well he kept his promise then, with a fierce, relentless daring, Fire to roof-trees, death to men, through the Bergen valleys bearing. In the midnight deep and dark came his vengeance darker, deeper— At the watch-dog’s sudden bark woke in terror every sleeper; Till at length the farmers brown, wasting time no more on tillage, Swore these ruffians of the crown, fiends of murder, fire, and pillage, Should be chased by every path to the dens where they had banded, And no prayers should soften wrath when they caught the bloody-handed Jack, the Regular.