Unseen powers are crossing their meshes here
around us,--and, what am I--Powers?--there's but one Power, and that--
----"He careth for the little bird,
Far in the lone wood's depths, and though dark weapons
And keen eyes are out, it falleth not
But at his will."
[_Exit_.
PART SECOND
* * * * *
LOVE
* * * * *
DIALOGUE I.
SCENE. _A little glen in the woods near Fort Edward. A young British
Officer appears, attended by a soldier in the American uniform;
the latter with a small sealed pacquet in his hand_.
_Off_. Hist!
_Sol_. Well, so I did; but----
_Off_. Hist, I say!
_Sol_. A squirrel it is, Sir; there he sits.
_Off_. By keeping this path you avoid the picket on the hill. It will
bring you out where these woods skirt the vale, and scarcely a hundred
rods from the house itself.
[_Calling without_.]
_Sol_. Captain Andre--Sir.
_Off_. It were well that the pacquet should fall into no other hands.
With a little caution there is no danger.
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