Crimes and Punishments.

In June, 1778, its, while Fitzpatrick and his associate were engaged in one of these predatory raids, the British army evacuated Philadelphia, and the two men determined to remain in Chester County and carry on the war as an independent, irregular body. To that end they made their headquarters at a point known as Hand's Pass, near the present town of Coatesville, and had also secluded hiding-places along the Brandywine in Newland and West Bradford townships, one of which, J. Smith Futhey says, "was on the high hill on the west side of the creek, near the present Marshall's Station, on the Wilmington and Reading Railroad." From these retired places of concealment Fitzpatrick and Dougherty issued to make desperate expeditions, or to undertake daring adventures, which, in a short time, rendered their names a terror to the Whigs of that neighborhood, for, as to the Tories, they regarded them as their friends, and never molested them. The collectors of the public revenue, however, were their especial prey, and oftentimes unfortunate tax-gatherers who fell in their way were made the victims of the utmost brutality. Frequently, after stripping them of all their money, they would tie the unhappy offcials to convenient trees and flog them unmercifully. On one occasion, one of these men was not only robbed of a large sum of money by Fitzpatrick and his companion, but he was taken to one of their hidden lurking-places in the woods, where he was detained for two weeks, to the consternation of his family, who could only account for his absence by the supposition that he had been murdered.

At another time two tax-collectors, armed with muskets, met a man walking alone whom they did not know, and entered into conversation with him. During the interview one of the officials inquired of the stranger whether he had seen Fitzpatrick, or if he could give him any information as to the whereabouts of that individual, remarking at the same time that he rather preferred that he should encounter that person, for if he did, he, Fitzpatrick, should not escape from him so easily as he had done from other collectors who had fallen in with him. The stranger continued the conversation a few minutes longer, when, turning suddenly upon the men, he disarmed them both, then quietly informed them that he was Fitzpatrick, and that he would be obliged to them for their money. From the boastful Capt. McGowan, one of the collectors, he took his watch, but as the latter said it was a family relic, doubly valuable to him on that account, he returned it promptly. Capt. McGowan wore his hair in a neat queue, of which he was very vain, and as a particular indignity Fitzpatrick cut it off close to his head. He also despoiled the unfortunate military offcer of his sword and pistols, and then tied him to a tree and administered a sound flagellation. At its conclusion Fitzpatrick informed the crestfallen man that he had heard him, McGowan, boasting while at an inn a few miles distant, what he would do with him should he encounter him, and he had therefore given him the opportunity to make his boast good. A local writer of rude verse of the period in commemorating Fitzpatrick's exploits alludes thus to this incident:

Subsequently, when the outlaw was in chains in his cell in the jail at Chester, Capt. McGowan visited Fitzpatrick to inquire what he had done with the sword and pistols he had taken from him. The prisoner asked him if he remembered the tavern where he had expressed his wish to meet him, and the tree to which he was tied to be flogged by the man he was looking for. These questions were answered in the affrmative. Thereupon Fitzpatrick told him that about three hundred yards to the southwest of that tree he would find his sword and pistols, concealed between the bark and wood of a decayed oak log. It is stated that the arms were found at the place thus designated.

The audacious courage of the man frequently manifested itself in the most reckless acts of bravado on his part. On one occasion fifty or more persons, all well armed, gathered together with the avowed purpose of taking Fitzpatrick, dead or alive, but being unsuccessful in their search they repaired to an inn, where, seated upon the porch, they discussed the recent exploits of the outlaw and the liquors of the tavern at the same time, until the crowd became excited, and many of the men expressed a desire to meet Fitzpatrick, who was well known to almost every one present. Suddenly, during the heat of the conversation, the outlaw, with his rifle in his hands, presented himself before them, called for a glass of liquor, drank it, and after paying for it withdrew as quietly as he had come, excepting, as he backed off, he announced that he would shoot the fist man who stirred to molest him. Then walking backward, holding his rifle menacingly toward the body of men, he moved away until he had attained, as he regarded, a sufficient distance from his enemies, when he turned and fled into the woods.

Several weeks before the British army evacuated Philadelphia, Fitzpatrick and Dougherty, in one of