Theodore Winthrop

“ The Van Wyck farm-house stood, and still stands, with its flank to the road and its front to the Highlands.
“Not much clank and pomp and pageantry in this army of Israel Putnam,” thought Skerrett. “No tents! Men are barracked in barns, I suppose, or sleep under corn-stalks, with pumpkins for pillows. No sentinels! But probably every man keeps his eyes peeled and his ears pricked up for the tramp of British brogans or Hessian boots on the soil.” ”

“ There was, however, a sentry standing at the unhinged gate in the decimated paling of the farm-yard.
He turned his back, and paced to the end of his beat, as Major Skerrett approached.
“Aha!” thought the latter, “Jierck Dewitt is as quick-sighted as ever. He wants to dodge me. Poor fellow! Bottle has got him again, I fear. Why can’t man be satisfied with atmosphere, and cut alcohol?”
Skerrett entered the gate, and hailed, “Jierck!” ”

“ A man’s legs gallop when his blood and spirits are boiling after such a fashion. It did not take the Major any considerable portion of eternity to measure off the furlongs of cultivated plain between Fishkill village and Putnam’s head-quarters. ”