Chapter 25

No vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,
But winter, lingering, chills the lap of May;
No zephyr fondly sues the mountain's breast,
But meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.
--GOLDSMITH.

The roads of Westchester are, at this hour, below the improvements of
the country. Their condition at the time of the tale has already been
alluded to in these pages; and the reader will, therefore, easily
imagine the task assumed by Caesar, when he undertook to guide the
translated chariot of the English prelate through their windings, into
one of the less frequented passes of the Highlands of the Hudson.

While Caesar and his steeds were contending with these difficulties, the
inmates of the carriage were too much engrossed with their own cares to
attend to those who served them. The mind of Sarah had ceased to wander
so wildly as at first; but at every advance that she made towards
reason, she seemed to retire a step from animation; from being excited
and flighty, she was gradually becoming moody and melancholy. There were
moments, indeed, when her anxious companions thought that they could
discern marks of recollection; but the expression of exquisite woe that
accompanied these transient gleams of reason, forced them to the
dreadful alternative of wishing that she might forever be spared the
agony of thought. The day's march was performed chiefly in silence, and
the party found shelter for the night in different farmhouses.

The following morning the cavalcade dispersed. The wounded diverged
towards the river, with the intention of taking water at Peekskill, in
order to be transported to the hospitals of the American army above. The
litter of Singleton was conveyed to a part of the Highlands where his
father held his quarters, and where it was intended that the youth
should complete his cure; the carriage of Mr. Wharton, accompanied by a
wagon conveying the housekeeper and what baggage had been saved, and
could be transported, resumed its route towards the place where Henry
Wharton was held in duress, and where he only waited their arrival to be
put on trial for his life.

The country which lies between the waters of the Hudson and Long Island
Sound, is, for the first forty miles from their junction, a succession
of hills and dales. The land bordering on the latter then becomes less
abrupt, and gradually assumes a milder appearance, until it finally
melts into the lovely plains and meadows of the Connecticut. But as you
approach the Hudson, the rugged aspect increases, until you at length
meet with the formidable barrier of the Highlands. Here the neutral
ground ceased. The royal army held the two points of land that commanded
the southern entrance of the river into the mountains; but all the