A Connecticut officer

a torpedo-vessel in warfare. named Bushnell, an ingenious mechanician, had invented during his college-life an oddly-conceived machine for submarine explosion, to which he gave the appropriate name of "The American Turtle." He had the model with him in camp. A report of the existence of this contrivance reached General Putnam, then in command at New York. He sent for Bushnell, talked the matter over with him, examined the model, and was so pleased with it that he gave the inventor an order to construct a workingmachine, supplying funds for this purpose.

Bushnell lost no time. In ten days the machine was ready. It was a peculiar-looking affair, justifying its name by its resemblance to a large oceanturtle. In the head, or front portion, was an airtight apartment, with a narrow entrance. It was claimed to be capable of containing fresh air enough to support life for half an hour. The bottom of the machine was ballasted with lead. Motion was obtained from an oar, adapted for rowing backward or forward, while a rudder under control of the operator served for steering purposes. In the bottom was a valved aperture, into which water could be admitted when it was desired to sink the machine; while the water could be ejected by two brass pumps when the operator wished to rise again.

The torpedo arrangement consisted of two pieces of oak timber, hollowed out and filled with powder, the space containing a clock-work arrangement that could be set to run any time desired, and a contriv. ance for exploding the powder when the time expired.

This torpedo was fixed in the rear of the vessel, and was provided with a strong screw, that could be turned by the operator, so as to fasten it under the bottom of a ship or in other desired location. So far as appeared, the contrivance was not unpromising. It failed in its purpose, but solely, if the word of the operator may be taken, from the absence of an indispensable article of supply. What this was will appear in the sequel.

Captain Bushnell's brother had volunteered for the perilous enterprise. A sudden sickness prevented him, and his place was taken by a venturesome New London sergeant named Abijah Shipman, or, as rechristened by his companions, "Long Bige." He was an amphibious chap, half sailor, half soldier, long, thin, and bony, and not wanting in Yankee humor. He had courage enough to undertake any enterprise, if he could only be primed with rum and tobacco, articles which he deemed the leading necessaries of life.

It was an early hour of a July morning. The sun had not appeared on the eastern horizon. By a wharf-side on the Hudson floated the strange marine monster whose powers were about to be tested. On the shore stood Putnam and many other officers. In their midst was Abijah Shipman, ready to start on his dangerous enterprise. It was proposed to tow the nondescript affair into the stream, set it adrift on the tide, and trust to Abijah's skill to bring it under the bottom of the "Eagle," Admiral Howe's flag-ship, which had been chosen for the victim. If the maga zine could be attached to the bottom of this vessel, she

must surely be destroyed. But certainly the chances seemed greatly against its being thus attached.

Everything was ready. Abijah stepped on board his craft, entered the air-tight chamber, closed the cover, and was about to screw it down, when suddenly it flew open again, and his head emerged.

"Thunder and marlinspikes!" he exclaimed, "who's got a cud of tobacco? This old cud won't last, anyhow." And he threw away the worn-out lump on which he had been chewing.

A laugh followed his appeal. Such of the officers as used the weed felt hastily in their pockets. They were empty of the indispensable article. There was no hope for Abijah; daylight was at hand, time was precious, he must sail short of supplies.

"You see how it is, my brave fellow," said Putnam. "We Continental officers are too poor to raise even a tobacco plug. Push off. To-morrow, after you have sent the 'Eagle' on its last flight, some of our Southern officers shall order you a full keg of old Virginia weed."

"It's too bad," muttered Abijah, dejectedly. "And mind you, gen'ral, if the old 'Turtle' doesn't do her duty, it's all 'long of me goin' to sea without tobacco."

Down went Abijah's head, the cover was tightly screwed into place, and the machine was towed out into the channel and cast loose. Away it floated towards the British fleet, which lay well up in the Narrows. The officers made their way to the Battery, where they waited in much suspense the result of the enterprise.

An hour slowly moved by. Morning broke. The

rim of the sun lifted over the distant waters. Yet the "Eagle" still rode unharmed. Something surely had happened. The torpedo had failed. Possibly the venturesome Abijah was reposing in his stranded machine on the bottom of the bay. Putnam anxiously swept the waters in the vicinity of the " Eagle" with his glass. Suddenly he exclaimed, "There he is!" The top of the "Turtle" had just emerged, in a little bay a short distance to the left of Howe's flag-ship.

It was seen as quickly by the sentinels on the "Eagle," who fired at the strange aquatic monster with such good aim that Abijah popped under the water as hastily as he had emerged from it. On board the "Eagle" confusion evidently prevailed. This strange contrivance had apparently filled the mariners with alarm. There were signs of a hasty effort to get under weigh, and wings were added to this haste when a violent explosion took place in the immediate vicinity of the fleet, hurling up great volumes of water into the air. The machine had been set to run an hour, and had duly gone off at its proper time, but, for some reason yet to be explained, not under the "Eagle." The whole fleet was not long in getting up its anchors, setting sail, and scurrying down the bay to a safer abiding-place below. And here they lay until the day of the battle of Long Island, not venturing again within reach of that naval nondescript.

As for the "Turtle," boats at once set out to Abijah's relief and he was taken off in the vicinity of Governor's Island. On landing and being questioned, he gave, in his own odd way, the reasons of his failure.

"Just as I said, gen'ral," he remarked, "it all failed for the want of that cud of tobacco. You see, I am narvous without tobacco. I got under the 'Eagle's' bottom, but somehow the screw struck the iron bar that passes from the rudder pintle, and wouldn't hold on anyhow I could fix it. Just then I let go the oar to feel for a cud, to steady my narves, and I hadn't any. The tide swept me under her counter, and away I slipped top o' water. I couldn't manage to get back, so I pulled the lock and let the thunder-box slide. That's what comes of sailin' short of supplies. Say, can't you raise a cud among you now?"

There is another interesting story to tell, in connection with the British occupation of New York, which may be fitly given here. The battle of Long Island had been fought. The American forces had been safely withdrawn. Washington had moved the main body of his army, with the bulk of the stores, from the city, leaving General Putnam behind, in command of the rear-guard.

Putnam's position was a perilous one. The configuration of Manhattan Island is such that the British could land a force from the East River, throw it across the narrow width of the island, and cut off retreat from below. The only trust lay in the shore batteries, and they proved useless.

A British landing was made at Kip's Bay, about three miles above the city, where were works strong enough to have kept off the enemy for a long time, had they been well defended. As it was, the garrison fled in a panic, on the bare appearance of the