The captain paused, and Grandma Elsie remarked that she remembered reading of some interesting occurrences given by Lossing in notes to his history of the attack upon Detroit and its fort.
"One was that during the evening a large shell fell upon the roof of a private dwelling, two stories high, and coming down through the roof and upper floor, fell upon the table around which the family were sitting, then through to the cellar, and they had just time to fly from the house when the shell exploded, tearing it to pieces."
"That was a very narrow escape for them," remarked Violet.
"Please tell us some more, grandma," begged Neddie, and Grandma Elsie kindly continued.
"There was a battery commanded by a brave soldier--Lieutenant Daliba," she said. "He stood on the ramparts during the cannonade, and when he saw the smoke or flash of the enemy's cannon he would call out to his men, 'Down!' and they would drop behind the parapet until the ball had struck.
"Near the battery was a large pear-tree which was somewhat in the way, and Colonel Mack, of the Michigan militia, ordered a young volunteer named John Miller to cut it down. He made haste to obey, seizing an axe and falling vigorously to work; but when he had cut about halfway through the trunk one of the enemy's balls struck it and nearly finished the work. The young man turned coolly toward the British and called out, 'Send us another, John Bull; you can cut faster than I can.'"
"Was the British soldier that fired it named John Bull?" queried Neddie.
"Why, that's what we call Englishmen, don't you know?" said his sister Elsie. "And we are all Brother Jonathans. Aren't we, papa?"
"That's what they call us," returned her father, with a smile, "and though not a very euphonious name, I, for one, prefer it to John Bull."
"But Jonathan's a boy's name," objected Ned sturdily. "Men and boys can be Jonathans, but women and girls can't."
"Well, I don't want to be," said Elsie. "It isn't a pretty name; but John Bull's worse. Grandma, haven't you another little story to tell us?"
"One more, which I found in Lossing's book," replied Grandma Elsie pleasantly. "He says it is related that while cannonading was going on, the shot striking thick and fast around the fort, a negro was seen on its roof. He stood near a chimney, watching the firing of the British on the other side of the river, and whenever he saw the smoke of a cannon would spring behind the chimney till the shot had struck, then peep out again.