Philip Freneau, the popular poet of the Revolution, issued from his press at Mount Pleasant, Monmouth county, in 1795, a volume of his poems entitled:

Printed at the Press of the Author, at MOUNT PLEASANT, near MIDDLETOWN POINT: M,DCC,XCV: and of American Independence XIX.

Over the Latin motto is a pyramid of fifteen stars-- the pyramid of fifteen American States. There are other editions of his poems, but this one is so rare that it is highly prized by antiquarians. Our attention has been called to this book by the fact that in a recent London bookseller's catalogue a copy is advertised for sale; price, £3.10s. (about seventeen dollars.) A leading American dealer in, and importer of rare and curious works, generally charges a customer here forty cents for every shilling a book costs in London, to cover risks and profit. This would make this book cost an American purchaser twenty-eight dollars! But this is not the highest price this work has been held at. A friend found a copy in an antiquarian bookstore in Washington a few years ago, for which the dealer asked some forty odd dollars, but finally got down to thirty-five dollars!

Philip Freneau married Miss Eleanor Forman, daughter of Samuel Forman, a wealthy citizen of the county. Colonel Jonathan and Denise Forman, mentioned in the historical sketches of the county in connection with Revolutionary matters, were her brothers, and General David Forman was a cousin. Both Mr. and Mrs. Freneau are buried at Mount Pleasant. He died December 18, 1832.

The following account of his death was published in the Monmouth Inquirer at the time:

"Mr Freneau was in the village, and started towards evening to go home, about two miles. In attempting to go across he appears to have got lost and mired in a bog meadow, where his lifeless corps was discovered yesterday. Captain Freneau was a stanch Whig in the time of the Revolution, a good soldier and a warm patriot. The productions of his pen animated his countrymen in the darkest days of '76, and the effusions of his muse cheered the desponding soldier as he fought the battles of freedom."

"Of this poet, from whom Thomas Campbell and Walter Scott did not hesitate to plagiarize; whom the greatest English critic compared to Gray and who wrote pieces that Scott learned by heart, one of which he pronounced 'as fine as anything written in the English language,' is a man of whom Monmouth has a reason to be proud. He was the intimate friend of leading American statesmen for nearly two generations."

The noted Commodore Percival, who died a few years ago, familiarly named "Mad Jack Percival," in the early part of his naval career was the hero of an adventure on our coast, which is thus described by a paper published in New York at the time:

"On Sunday morning, July 4, 1813, the fishing smack 'Yankee' was borrowed by Commodore Lewis, who had command of the American flotilla stationed at Sandy Hook, for the purpose of taking by stratagem the sloop 'Eagle,' tender to the Poictiers 74, cruising off and on Sandy Hook, which succeeded to a charm. A calf, a sheep and a goose were purchased and secured on deck. Thirty men, well armed, were secreted in the cabin and forepeak. Thus prepared, the 'Yankee' stood out of Mosquito Cove, as if going on a fishing trip to the Banks; three men only being on deck dressed in fishermen's apparel, with buff caps on. The 'Eagle,' on perceiving the smack, immediately gave chase, and after coming up with her and finding she had live stock on board, ordered her to go down to the Commodore, then five miles distant. The helmsman of the smack answered, 'Ay! ay, sir!' and apparently put up the helm for that purpose, which brought him alongside the 'Eagle,' not three yards distant. The watchword 'Lawrence' was then given, when the armed men rushed on deck from their hiding places and poured into her a volley of musketry which struck the crew with dismay, and drove them so precipitately into the hold that they had not time to strike the flag. Seeing the enemy's deck clear, Sailingmaster Percival, who commanded the expedition, ordered the men to cease from firing, upon which one of the men came out the hold and struck the 'Eagle's' colors. They had on board a thirty-two pound brass howitzer loaded with canister shot, but so sudden was the surprise they had not time to discharge it. The crew of the 'Eagle' consisted of H. Morris, master's mate of the Poictiers, W. Price, midshipman, and eleven seamen and marines. Mr. Morris was killed, Mr. Price mortally wounded, and one marine killed and one wounded. The 'Eagle,' with the prisoners, arrived off the Battery in the afternoon and landed the prisoners at Whitehall, amid the shouts and plaudits of thousands of spectators assembled at the Battery to celebrate the anniversary of independence. Mr. Morris was buried at Sandy Hook with military honors. Mr. Price was carried to New York, where on Thursday he died, and was buried with military ceremonies in St. Paul's churchyard."

A traditionary version of this affair, as related by the late Judge Job F. Randolph, of Barnegat, says that Percival wished to make his boat appear as a market boat; that he placed one of his men on a seat close to the bulwark disguised as an old Quakerish looking farmer, with broad-brimmed hat and long staff in hand, while he looked like an ignorant boor at the wheel, and by his answers made the British think he was half-witted. When ordered to drop alongside, under threat of being fired into, he made a silly reply to the effect, "You had better not try it, for dad's big molasses jug is on deck, and if you broke that, he would make you sorry for it."

At one time it was rumored that the Refugee, Captain John Bacon, with a party of his marauders, was on his way to Manahawken, on a plundering expedition, and such of the militia as could be notified, were hastily summoned together at Captain Randolph's house to prepare to meet them. The handful of militia remained on the alert the greater part of the night, but towards morning, finding the enemy failed to appear, they concluded it was a false alarm, and, retired to sleep, after stationing sentinels. Tradition says that the sentinels were stationed on the main road, two above the hotel, and two below, and that on one post were Jeremiah Bennett and Job Randolph, and on the other, Seth Crane and Samuel Bennett, and that Captain Randolph superintended the lookout.

The Refugees came down the road from the north, and the first intimation the sentinels stationed near the old Baptist church had of their approach, was hearing their bayonets strike together as they were marching. The sentinels halted long enough to see that the party was quite large, double the number of the militia, and firing, ran across the fields to give the alarm. By the time the few militia were aroused, the Refugees were abreast of the house, and before the Americans could form, they were fired upon, and Lines Pangburn killed, and Sylvester Tilton severely wounded. The militia were compelled to retreat down the lane before they could organize, when, finding the Refugees had the larger force, and were well armed, they were reluctantly compelled to decline pursuing them. The Refugees passed down the road towards West Creek.

Tilton, who was so severely wounded, recovered almost miraculously, as the ball passed clear through him, going in by one shoulder and out at his breast; the physician, as is well authenticated, passed a silk handkerchief completely through the wound. After the war was over, Tilton removed to Colt's Neck, where it is believed some of his descendants now live. Lines Pangburn, who was killed, was probably the same person who aided in organizing the Baptist church at Manahawken, was the first delegate to the General Association, and also the man referred to so very kindly by Rev. John Murray, as "Esquire" Pangburn.

Sylvester Tilton always believed that a Refugee named Brewer, was the man who wounded him, and he vowed to have revenge if he should ever meet him.

Several years after the war closed, he heard that Brewer was at a certain place, and he started after him unarmed, though he knew Brewer was always well provided with weapons. He found Brewer and closed in on him before the Refugee could avail himself of weapons, and gave him a most unmerciful beating; it would probably have fared worse with Brewer but for the interference of a much esteemed Quaker named James Willets. After Tilton had finished, he told Brewer, "You scoundrel, you tried to kill me once, and I have now settled with you for it, and you've got to leave here and follow the rest of your gang." The rest of the Refugees had fled to Nova Scotia.

After the war the widow of Lines Pangburn applied to the court at Freehold for relief and the following is a copy of the record in the Clerk's office:

"To the Honorable Court of Quarter Sessions to be holden in and for the county of Monmouth. WHEREAS L. Pangburn, a militiaman, an inhabitant of Stafford, under command of Captain Joseph Randolph, who was shot dead as he stood on guard, by a party of Refugees, on the thirty-first day of December, 1780, in the presence of Sylvester Tilton (who was shot through with a bullet at the same time) and Reuben Randolph, both being sworn and affirmed before me, Amos Pharo, say the above facts are true.

SYLVESTER TILTON,
REUBEN RANDOLPH.

Now the widow of him, the deceased, by the name of Ann Pangburn, prays that your Honors may give her some aid for her support as she is blind and in low circumstances.

The Court allowed her half pay."