190 WINTER SKETCHES. 



Impel your host, thy guilt-upbraided soul 



Shall wish untouched the sacred life you stole, 



And when thy heart appalled, and vanquished pride 



Shall vainly ask the mercy they denied, 



With horror shalt thou meet the fate they gave, 



Nor pity gild the darkness of thy grave ! 



For infamy, with livid hand shall shed 



Eternal mildew on thy ruthless head ! " 



The author, Miss Seward, was the friend of 

 Honora Sneyd, who had discarded Andre, and 

 had since married and died. That appears to 

 be all of the personal motive which brought 

 out this vindictive curse upon the head of 

 Washington. 



Nearly opposite the house occupied by 

 Washington is another stone building of 

 smaller size. It was a tavern in Revolu- 

 tionary times, and for the occasion, a room 

 in it was used as Andre's prison. It is now 

 the property of an eccentric old physician, who 

 has allowed the roof to tumble in and every- 

 thing to fall out of repair. Lest any visitor 

 should put one of the granite blocks or one of 

 the roof timbers in his pocket and walk away 

 with it, the doctor has surrounded the house 

 with a high board fence which even the agile 

 school-boy is unable to surmount. 



We walked from the village in a westerly 



