Myths and Legends of Our Own Land, vol 3

Myths And Legends of Our Own
Land, vol 3: Delaware

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Title: Myths And Legends Of Our Own Land (On And Near The
Delaware)
Author: Charles M. Skinner
Release Date: October, 2004 [EBook #6608] [Yes, we are more than
one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on December 31,
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MYTHS-LEGENDS, BY SKINNER, V3 ***

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MYTHS AND LEGENDS OF OUR OWN LAND
By Charles M. Skinner
Vol. 3.
ON AND NEAR THE DELAWARE

CONTENTS:
The Phantom Dragoon Delaware Water Gap The Phantom Drummer
The Missing Soldier of Valley Forge The Last Shot at Germantown A
Blow in the Dark The Tory's Conversion Lord Percy's Dream Saved by
the Bible Parricide of the Wissahickon The Blacksmith at Brandywine
Father and Son The Envy of Manitou The Last Revel in Printz Hall The
Two Rings Flame Scalps of the Chartiers The Consecration of
Washington Marion

ON AND NEAR THE DELAWARE
THE PHANTOM DRAGOON
The height that rises a mile or so to the south of Newark, Delaware, is
called Iron Hill, because it is rich in hematite ore, but about the time of
General Howe's advance to the Brandywine it might well have won its
name because of the panoply of war--the sullen guns, the flashing
swords, and glistening bayonets--that appeared among the British tents
pitched on it. After the red-coats had established camp here the
American outposts were advanced and one of the pickets was stationed
at Welsh Tract Church. On his first tour of duty the sentry was thrown

into great alarm by the appearance of a figure robed from head to foot
in white, that rode a horse at a charging gait within ten feet of his face.
When guard was relieved the soldier begged that he might never be
assigned to that post again. His nerves were strong in the presence of an
enemy in the flesh--but an enemy out of the grave! Ugh! He would
desert rather than encounter that shape again. His request was granted.
The sentry who succeeded him was startled, in the small hours, by a
rush of hoofs and the flash of a pallid form. He fired at it, and thought
that he heard the sound of a mocking laugh come back.
Every night the phantom horseman made his rounds, and several times
the sentinels shot at him without effect, the white horse and white rider
showing no annoyance at these assaults. When it came the turn of a
sceptical and unimaginative old corporal to take the night detail, he
took the liberty of assuming the responsibilities of this post himself. He
looked well to the priming of his musket, and at midnight withdrew out
of the moonshine and waited, with his gun resting on a fence. It was not
long before the beat of hoofs was heard approaching, and in spite of
himself the corporal felt a thrill along his spine as a mounted figure that
might have represented Death on the pale horse came into view; but he
jammed his hat down, set his teeth, and sighted his flint- lock with
deliberation. The rider was near, when bang went the corporal's musket,
and a white form was lying in the road, a horse speeding into the
distance. Scrambling over the fence, the corporal, reassured, ran to the
form and turned it over: a British scout, quite dead. The daring fellow,
relying on the superstitious fears of the rustics in his front, had made a
nightly ride as a ghost, in order to keep the American outposts from
advancing, and also to guess, from elevated points, at the strength and
disposition of their troops. He wore a cuirass of steel,