298 The Story of The Bronx 



servant, George the Third, King of Great Britain, Ireland, and 

 France, and Defender of the Faith. " On some dark night, when 

 their eves could scarcely pierce the gloom, their ears have been 

 saluted by the sounds of passing horsemen ; and as they caught 

 the low-spoken words, they knew that De Armond and his 

 gallant Frenchmen were on an errand to the British camp; 

 later, they hear the clash of steel, the scattering shots of the 

 musketry, and the thunder of the horses' hoofs upon the dam, 

 and know that the Frenchman has drawn the enemy from his 

 camp. 



For five long years they looked for that noble figure, which, 

 once seen, could never be forgotten; and then he came, and 

 by his side the noble Rochambeau. Before their eyes passed 

 the veteran troops of Lincoln and the soldiers of France with 

 the standard of the lilies unfurling its silken folds to the soft, 

 caressing, American air. They saw the grand reconnaissance ; 

 and at its end they saw the great commander, surrounded by 

 his tried companions-in-arms and by the best and noblest sons 

 of France, pass within the door. 



Their eyes were tired with watching the turmoil of war, 

 their ears with hearing its din. Before them passed the gal- 

 lant prince who later was to be Britain's "Sailor King," 

 and with him the humane Carleton. For two years more 

 they watched for the return of the Chief, and turned their 

 sight and hearing toward the post-road. At last, their vigil 

 was ended; for in the distance came the roll of drums, the 

 shriek of fifes, and the steady tramp of armed men; and their 

 eyes gazed restfully upon the men in blue and buff, at their 

 head the immortal Washington, with Henry Knox and George 

 Clinton on either side. Once more they saw a distinguished 

 group pass through the door; and could their hearing have 

 pierced the walls of stone, they would have heard the great 



