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��WON AT LAST.

��fully engaged. He secured a good ac- beginning of 1777, commenced in defeat and gloom to our good cause, and termi- nated in success and glory. From the facts and figures before stated the can- did reader can easily determine or appor- tion the just amount of praise and grati- tude due to the New Hampshire troops for their achievments in that eventful year. We have stated our claim with no intent to do injustice, or to disparage the distinguished services rendered by the men from the other New England States, as well as New York and Virginia, in contributing their aid and well-concerted measures, which resulted in the final surrender of Burgoyne and his army.

Gen. Jacob Bailey of Vermont, who participated in that campaign as one of the commanders of the forces there era- ployed, on the 20th of November, 1777, wrote to Hon. Meshech Weare, in his plain, characteristic style, viz. :

" Dear Sir :— I congratulate you on the happy reduction of Gen. Bnrgoyne's army by Gen Gates, in which New Hampshire State, first and last, was very

��instrumental. The turning out of your volunteers was extraordinarily advanta- geous in that affair," etc.

Such was the judgment of an honest and impartial eye-witness.

There is no doubt that the active, bold and fearless conduct of Arnold in both battles infused life and energy into the American troops. He had the credit, as commander, in the first battle. It is said that Captain Samuel Ball of the New Hampshire Volunteers was wounded on the head by a blow from Arnold's sword. That in return Ball raised his gun and would have shot Arnold had not his Lieutenant interfered and seized Ball's arm. The cause of the difficulty was not stated. Arnold made a subsequent apology to Ball. The killing of Arnold may have been pronounced wrong, or rash in the case of Ball, if his purpose had been carried out, but it might have saved to the name of Arnold the terrific word traitor t Capt. Ball lived to a good old age, and died in Acworth in this State.

��WON AT LAST.

��BY HELEN M. KUSSELL.

��CHAP. I.

There is an undefinable sadness in the dying out of Nature's beauties: the with- ered and frost-killed verdure lying deso- late and neglected at our feet ; the sad, dreary moaning of the leafless trees, the chill wind, and, above all, the knowledge that the year is soon to draw to a close. To a devoted lover of Nature these thoughts come with a force which over- shadows the heart, causing painful reflec- tions. It is at such times one's mind nat- urally turns to holier things, and we feel more thankful for this blessed truth :

That when this life is ended We may gather at the Throne,

And not, like leaves and flowers, Be left to die alone;

Oh, 'tis a thought most priceless,

��A jewel bright and fair, To know a home in Heaven Awaits our entrance there.

This thought brings a sweet, restful feeling into our otherwise sad hearts, and we go on our way with a deeper re- alization of our manifold blessings, and our Father's watchful kindness o'er us all.

In a valley, nestled cosily between some of New Hampshire's many hills, is the village of S, small and unpre- tending, with only one church, two stores, a blacksmith shop and a school house, beside the old-fashioned dwelling- houses standing here and there along the straggling street. It is a chilly day in Oetober. Rude gusts of wind cause the dead leaves to fall in showers from the

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