immediately laid a train of powder from the depot to the spot where she stood and when the British detachment came in sight set fire to the train and blew it up. The explosion which greeted the ears of the foe informed them that the object of their expedition was frustrated. The officer in command demanded who had dared to perpetrate such' an act, and swore vengeance upon the culprit. The intrepid woman answered for herself: "It was I who did it. Let the consequence be what it will I glory in having prevented the mischief contemplated by the cruel enemies of my country."
Colonel Bratton continued in active service throughout the war, and during his lengthened absences from home he was seldom able to see or communicate with his family. Mrs. Bratton, however, never complained, although herself a sufferer from the ravages of war, but devoted herself to the care of her family, striving at the same time to aid and encourage her neighbors. On the return of peace the husband resumed the cultivation of his farm. Grateful for the preservation of their lives and property, they did everything in their power to the other homes that had been wrecked by death and devastation. Mrs. Bratton died in 1816 and is buried near the scene of her distress and suffering during the war.
MRS. SPALDING.
The wife of a patriot during the Revolution should be sufficient title to a place among the world's heroines. But it is only through the lives of those few whose cases have passed them into the class of super-woman that we call emphasis to the brave spirit which must have upheld them. Of such an embodiment of the spirit of the Revolution was Mrs. Spalding, the wife of one of the patriots who took refuge in Florida, after Colonel Campbell had taken possession of Savannah. In 1778 Mrs. Spalding left her residence with her child when flight became necessary. Twice during the war she traversed two hundred miles between Savannah and St. John's River in an open boat, with only black servants on board, and the whole country a desert without a house to shelter her and her infant son. The first of these occasions was when she visited her father and brothers while prisoners in Savannah; the second, when in 1782 she went to congratulate her brothers and uncle in their victory. At one time she left Savannah in a ship of twenty guns, built in all points to resemble a sloop of war. Without the appearance of a cargo, it was in reality a small merchantman engaged in commerce. When they had been out some days, a large ship, painted black and showing twelve guns on a side, was seen to the windward running across their course. She was obviously a French privateer. The captain announced there was no hope to out-sail her should their course be altered nor would there be wisdom in conflict, as those ships usually carried one hundred and fifty men. Yet he rather thought if no effort were made to shun the privateer the appearance of his own ship might deter an attack. Word of the peril was sent to Mrs. Spalding, who was below, and after a few minutes the captain visited her to find a most touching scene. Mrs. Spalding had placed her children and the other inmates of the cabin in the two staterooms for safety, filling the berths with cots and bedding from the outer cabin. She had then taken her own station beside the scuttle which led from the outer cabin to the magazine,
