VOLUME 20.
POETRY AND MISCELLANY,
n for the Erieobaerver
EMS
JANSi 0/1333r.
viewing an Engraving or the scene of her
Extteution.j
LAD
[Lines Suggested on
I=
Ye iron-heart.d, oh, ye cry for blood—.,
Is there 110 one from whom to gorge your thirst.
And view the life-tide stain, the glistening steed
g
i o
The blood-hound smells his prey, and in his Mind
lliputiiate laps his deep red tongue for re; .
The wolf in prowling mood—with lowa ish mien,
Steals life Irom lambs to moisten his dry Plira;
Then%%by riot te.--olt, brave and mighty . nes
Who make and CICeIIIC Brlttaimia's laws—
Then why not dye your hands in woman': blood.
And on your reeking altar sacrifice
'A soul, as calm and lovely. as guileless
. And innocent. as wire and accomplished.
As mother Earth bore in her fruitfulness'
I Ph, what a feat, now full of glory fraught,
And pregnant with renown immortal, thus
To check the beating pulse of such a one,
'Po mop the throbbing+ of her .;.outhful heart! .
Then bring on the ate, the block, the "Atom" .
Bring (a new name for %Mae surely Mist)" _
Lay bare the ner k, her vision dint—for alt!
Ye cannot stand the last deep—searching gaze
Of these calm, angel eyes—make ready all;
And unmoved at l. hat might cause rocks to weep,
Ito up your work. • • * *. s s
' • * • 'Tis done, tremendous deed!
The thirsty steel has drank Its victim's blood;
The form, an hour ago, that teemed whit life,
With beauty glowed, is cold and quiet now;
The tires that lit up those heat enly eyes -,,,,
Arc quenched, and night eternal's settledlown—
The spirit's left tin clay. Oh, mournful a 'ought!
Why is it so. tire good, the fair, the wise,
The lovely, thus should like the felon die ‘,..
..
Beneath the headman's steel Oh, site was kind,
` A gracious one. a being bright, shut here
' %\'tth all the charms that grace and dignify
II er set, to cheer lllbilllA er world, like BOUM ',
Ilrielit'star. at night, Miotig dimmer ones that's seen.
'fell ins not the outraged laws detivinded this;
'Pile lowa chastise the bad, and not the good.
Hut rest Merl, gentle one—though dead, thou I iv'st,
I.Wst ever in the mindsof gen'totis men. c
And w tole future ages hurr)litig hy,
, In turn, are dieted in twilight of the past,
Ilmnanity's great heart, with sorrowuhrob,
And on thy grave Compassion's tear shall rest.
THE YOUNG DRAGOON.
A •STORY or VIE GOVPPENS
DT CIIAM.E9 J. PETERSON
CHAPTYR t.
There is a thing—there Is a thing. •
I fain wonld have from thee,
I fain wo.thl have thatgay:gritil ring.
SPLCTRE
Tim period of our revolutionary history immediately
.oicceeding the defeat of Camden, is Still remembered in
the Carolinas with horror. The British elated with thoir
110CCC54, and regarding the South as now their own,
proceeded in the work of confiscation and massacre with
pitiless severity. In that horrible crisis many a family
was deprived .of iti hea'd either by °vie or execution.—
Yet laiger numbers were shorn of their property and re
duced-. 10 cotnparative indigence. In a word, horror
rel t ptel 'paramount.
But,ifee cosnmou events of life still went on. The
tran.netions of business, tho struggle for wealth, the
toil. of tholusbandman, births, deaths, marriages, cares,
Wipes, fears—all followed ouch other tlown . tho deep cur
rent of oxistonce, almost wholly unafected.by tho storm
of war which agitated the surface. It is an error to sup
pos'e that great eonvulsiotits disturb the great order of
society. Men will still halo, though the entire nation be
turned into a camp; will strive for tho dross of earth;
will still, if young and generous, risk tho:r heart's hap•
piness inl love.
It was toward tho close of a winter evening, that a
youth of noble mien and handsome face stood at the foot
of one of those long avenues of trees, which in South
Carolina load up from the road to the mansions of the
wealthier proprietors. Fur nearly half an hour he had
been there as if awaiting the approach of some 0110 from
tho house; now looking anxiously up the long avenue,
now restlessly walking to amid fro. During that interval
but one person had walked along the highway, and the
notice of this one the youth had skilfully avoided by con
cealing himself behind some dwarf trees within the
plantation fence. This act, as well as his whole demea
nor showed he was awaiting sonic secret interview.
At last, just when the dusk,hegan to depon into night,
the flutter of a white dress was seen comihg down the
avenue. A minute more, and a beautiful ;NEI of eigh
teen summers appeared on tho scene.
"Albert" said the now corner, as the youth seized tier
hand, passionately kissing it, "I have not a second to
stay. It was with difficulty I could leave the house un
seen, and my absence has tioubtleits boon noticed before
this; what we hare to say, therefore, Must ho said at
once; why have you sou; ht thiVnterview?"
, - -
"I have sought it Ellen," ho replied, tat holding her
hand, "because, despairing of gti ing your consent, I
hero volunteered in Capt. Washington ' s cavalry corps,
and to-morrow set forth. Perima you will never see
me more. I could not leave tho neighborhood without
seeing you once more; and bidding you an eternal fare
well; and as your father's orders had banished me front
the house, there was no method of giving you my adieu
except by soliciting an interview.
The tears had s tartled from tho eyes of his 'listener,
but she turned away her head to conceal them; and for
some time neither spoke. "Ellen, dear Ellen," said
the young soldier, eoruestly, "nill you not now, in this
solemn moment, say you love me? I once hoped You
did, but since your fattier has forbidden me the house,
you have been less kind; and 1 fear that 1 have lost your
heart—that you too, have ceased to cure for me, now
I am beggared—"
His listener suddenly turned her face, full upon him,
pith a look of tearful reproach that cut 'holt his words.
"Bless you, Ellen, for that look," IM said "Though
my father's estate is confiscated, and he and I both in
digent, it is not on that account that you have seemed so
cold to me lately. Say then, dearest, only say that I
hare been mistaken in thinking you at all altered,"
Another look, equally elequent, ausw,e;ll him, but
still his hearer did not speak. '
"Ohl Ellen," he continued, "when I am far away,
fighting my country's battles, what bliss it would bo to
koow that you sometimes think of me; and that if I
should fall, you would shed a tear for me."
"Ilia listener, at these words wept freely,a nd when her
agitation had somewhat passed, spoke.
"Albert," she said, you have conquered-. Know then
that Ido love you." At these words the impetuous
young man clasped her in tier arms. but she disengaged
herself saying, "but while my father opposes your suit,
I can never be yours, The consciousness of his disap
proval has made me effect a coldness to you which my
heanbelied„ and the hope that you would think of some
one more worthy of you—but—but," she hesitated, then
quickly added, "in a word. if it will comfort you When
'war. to know that / think of you. and pray for you. go
fort h happy—the misery is rains who stay behind. and
who are hourly anxious for the fate of the absent."
The tears fell fast u she spoke, and. concluding. she
'tatted her head to be drawn to her lover's shoulder,
' llll lt 21 deep and hiily silence succeeded, as these two
. . ! . . .
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young and unhappy beings held each other in a first
embrace.,
It was only for a moment, however, that Ellen yield
ed t,) weakness. Raising- her head and brushing
the tears from her eyes, she said, while crimson blushes
overspread her faces
"And now. forowell—perhaps all this is wrong—but
I could not seo you leave mo in anger."
"God bleH3 con for those kind words." said Albert.
"But Ellen, before we go, one more request. That min
iature that hangs around sour neck—is it too much to
ask for it?"
-She hesitated: then as steps were heard in the road,
suddenly gave it to him. He drew a heavy signet-ring
from his finger, and said, tendering it in exchange.
"Tako this, and let us be truo to each other—so help
us God!"
And with this parting adjuration, he sprang over the
fence' to conceal himself behind ¶he humliwood, while
hostaing up the avenue, mis soon lost to sight in
the olp:curity of the hdiir.
The wind sighed nini rnftilly through the pine woods
a s this bethrothal was oinsumated, and the dark, star
less sky overhead Tooke down- with its weird and me
lancholy face.
CHAPTER 11.
Heard you the din of battle bray,
Lance to lance, and horse to horse
It is well known that after the defeat of Gates, Con
gress hastened to supercodo that general, and appointed
Greene to succeed hir. At the period of the incidents
narrated in the last chapter, the new Commander-in--
Chief had arrived in the South, and was organizing his
forces.
His very first proceeding showed the resources of un
intsdleet, AI 100, in military affairs wes second only to
that of the '•father of his country." Awaril that the ini
tiatory step towards redeeming the South was to arouse
the confidence of its people, ho determined to divide his
force. While, therefore; he moved with one portion
down the Pedee . , he despatched Morgan, with the re
mainder, west of the Catawba, in order to encourage the
inhabitants in that quarter. Morgan's corps,was accom
panied by Capt Washington's light dragoons, of which
our hero had already become a conspicuous member.
This division of his army, in the face of on active foe
would have boon a capital error, but for the political ad
vantages it offered, and which overbalanced the military
ones. Cornwallis, then in command of the royal army,
determined to frustrate the success of this plan by cutting
off Morgan's detachment; and accordingly ordered Col.
Tarleton, with his renowned dragoons, and a competent
force of infantry to give pursuit.
It was on the 14th of January, 1781, a day over to be
remembered in the annals' of our country, that tho heroic
Morgan learned the dan"or in which ho stood. Ho de
termined immediately to give battle. For this purpose
he halted at a place called the Cowpens, and having
drawn up his troops, awaited, thoughmot without anxiety,
the appearance of the•foe.
The Attack of Tarleton, as usual, was impetuous, and,
for a while, the American militia were driven helplessly
before it; but soon they rallied, tinder cover ofa few con
tinentals belonging to Morgan's command, and, in turn,
forced the British to give way. These braire soldiers of
tho line, led by their colonel, now charged with he bay
onet, when the routo oral° royal infantry became com
plete..
Washington, with his cavalry, had been waiting im
patiently a chance to participate in the fight; but having
been stationed as a partial - reserve, the order for him to
engage did not for some time arrive. His troops shared
his enthusiasm. Composed chiefly of young mon of
family, and mounted on thorough bred animals they pre
sented a formidable appearance, as they stood awaiting
the order to engage, the horses champing at the bits, and
the riders nervously fingering their swords: they saw the
onset of the British, the flight of the first line, and the
partial panic that extended through the foot soldiers with
horror; bat still their leader remained unmoved. Many
had never been in battle before, and such believed the
day hist; among these was Albert.
At last the confusion became so great around them
that troop; so undisciplined, if less 'brave, would have
taken to ignominous flight; for the defeated militia were
pouring down upon them from all sides, almost compel
ling them to break' their ranks, or see the fugitives perish
under tho hoofs of their horses. But now Washington
seemed to rouse from his inaction. Ordering his test
first to allow the flying militiy to gain their rear, he then
directed thorn. his sharp, quick tones showing that tho
moment for action had come, to close up and preParo for
a charge.
Ai bespoke. he pointed with his sts ord ahead, and
our hero beheld the renowned regiimme of Torten.. com
ing down upon theft at full gallop, amid a cloud of dust,
driving before them a muss of dismayed fugitives. The
keen eye of Washington measured. for an instant, the
distance between them, and then said,
A want no fire-arms used to-da), my lads. Stick to
the cold steel. And now, fur God and your country—
Away went the troop, liko a thunder bolt suddenly
loosed from a cloud, with di/cry s”abbard jingling, every
steal snorting with excitement, and the solid earth shak
ing under them. In full career they burst upon the flank
of the enemy, who disorder . ed by his pursuit, could make
but a feeble resistance. Horse and rider went down be
fore the impetuous charge of the Americ ans, who for a
while fairly rode .down their foes: ut British valor
soon proyed . to weak for the combined patriotism end
courage of Washington'eacavalry: and the royal troops
turning their bridles, took to ignominous flight.
- "On, on," cried Washington, waving his sword to his
men to follow: "remember the cruelties of these myr
midons. Reven ge for our slaughtered countrymen!
At the word, his mon, thus reminded of the butchery
of the Waxhaws, and of the other atrocities perpetrated
under the eye of Tarleton, spurred their horses afresh
and dashed an in - pursuit. A complete panic; had now
taken possession of the royal eavalrY, who hurried on a t
full gallop, each man thinking only of himself. Close
00 their heels followed the indignant Americans, cutting
,down mercilessly every red toad thoiovertook, until the
road was strewed with the dead. Foremost iu this pur
suit, rode Washington, a precedence he owed not only
to his superior steed, but to his eagerness to overtake an
officer just ahead, whom be judged to be Tarleton him
self from his efforts to rally the fugitive!.
The tremendous pace at which Washington rode, at
last carried him so far ahead of his men, that, at a bend
in the highway, he found himself totally alone. At this
moment-the British looking back, perceived his situa
tion, and immediately turned oa him, his principal assail
ants being Tarleton and two powerful dragoons. •
Knowing, however, that assistance must be close at
hand, Washington resolutely advanced to meet the ene
my. determined to seize Tarleton for his prisoner. But,
before ho could roach the colonel, the dragoons dub !
ed at him, the ono on the right, and the other on the left.
He saw only the first of them, however. and according
ly turning on him, clove: him down with a single blow of
his sabre, Wen rushed at Tarleton himself.
But, meantilne, the other dragoon was advancing, to
tally disregarded, u pon him, -and with upraised blade
would have cut him' down. had not our hero, who had
pressed close after his leader s at this ivatant who
round the corner of the wood. At a single glancelis -
took the who!, scene• .Albert saw that before he c'euld
come up Washington I Would be slain, unless] fire
arms were employed. In this emergency he di not hes
itate to disobey the ordors of his leader. Jerk ads pis.
tol front his holster, -he Mine!' full at the dragoon, just as
the sabre of the latter w a s sweeping down on Washing
ton's head. Th - o man' tninbled_ headlong from his sad
dle, his sword burryingiiself in the dusty
"Ha! who is that?" field 'Washington, sternly, so as
-tonished to find his ordoks disobeyed, that he turned; a
movement which l Torleton took advantage of to make
good his escape. "You Albert!—you!"
"There was no other Isay," answered our hero, and
ho pointed to the dead dragoon, "to save your life. His
sabre was within six inches of your head when I fired."
"It could , not beholped, then; I suppose," answered
Washington, who ! now Icomprehonded the event, and
saw that he owed his life to tho quickness of thought of .
his young friend; "but stay, you aro yourself hurt."
As he spoke, he paw the blood issuing from the sleeve
of Albert, and iini4ediaiely afterward the young soldier
reeled and feel senseless to the ground.
Two pistol shots had been discharged from the enemy,
Washington recolleetedl Immediately after Albert had
fired. •clia examination one ball was folind in the arm of
our hero. The other hall perforated the coat immediate
ly over the heart. 1
"Ho is dead," cried tl o leader, "that second shot has
touched a vital part."
He tom away the gartneuts av ho spoke, but uttered
a cry of joy when ho exPosed the chest, for there, right
over the heart lay a miniature, which had stopped the
ball. I I
ELM
Washington looked at tho picture, and muttered.
••ilui 1 have hoard ot)his—and ' now y i will see if I
can* servo tny,Young friend a good turn."
CIIAPTEfI 111.
Marty never for !Muses, nor marry forlands.
Nur marry for nothini but only La love.
F*'ttcv QvAniriq
When our hero, after a long interval of unconscious
ness. opened his eyes, he found himself, to his surprise,
in alarge and elegaintl:j , furnished apartment. entirely
strange to him. Ile pulled aside the curtuins his bed
with his uninjured arm; and looked out.. An egedle
male servant:sat watching him.
"What massa want?" lie said.
"flow did I get !ma i " ha asked.
"Captain Washington hoself toff you hero, maw. af
ter do great battle. Do Burgeon steed to dross your arm,
and then follow actor de i troops, who had licked the red
coats, day say, all to pieces."
"Yes! I know—then the army has pursued its march
to the Catawba."
Itsb. mussa; and you bo to stay bore till you well."
"But whore am I?" I -
The_ old negro woman smiled till she showed all her
teeth.
"You no know, mosso?"
"I do not." •
"You forget me, tnasa Albort—mo, Missua Ellen's
Mama?"
"Good God!" cried our hero, scarcely believing his
senses, and scrutinizing . her features, "can it be? you
are indeed she. And tie is Mr. Titsrudikes house."
He had started up in bed, and was now confronted by
the figure of the owner of the mansion himself, who en
tered at the opposite deor; but who, instead of wearing'
the angry nir which Alhdrt had last seen upon him, smiled
kindly upon him.
"I was passing along the corridor." ho said, seating
himself on the bedside Varmliarly, and taking the ha n d
of his wounded guest, "hearing your voice. learned for
the first time that yoti were awake. Accordingly, I
made bold to enter to assure you of a welcome. When
we last parted, Mr. Scott," ho said, noticing our hero's
look of astonishment, "it was with ill-feeling, on both
sides Let all thalbo, forgotten. Whatever I may then
have said, I now recall. ; In saving tho life of Ctiptain
IVashington, who's my dearest friend, you have laid-me
under infinite obligations, and at his request 1 have con
sented to overlook the past, and to give yon my daugh
ter. I only made a single stipulation. which is that you
will not ask her hand until this war is over, which, he
added, lowering his voice, "cannot be long, now that
things begin to go so auspiciuouslv."
, Our hero well understOod the character of Mr. Thorn
dike, who was noted for his prudent adherence to which
ever side was uppermost, and ho attributed this sudden
change not only to Captiiin Washington's intercessions,
but also in part to the prospect there now was of the
triumph of the colonial pause, in which case tho'confis
cated estates of the elder Mr. Scott would be restored.—
Ho kept this to himself, however, uud expressed his
thanks for Mr. Thorndiko's hospitality.
"But I shell owe you!evon - mare," he added, for the
happiness with which our promise has filled me, and I
cheerful accept yeiur teri;.s. hwy..> rive end
pay my' respects to the lady in person—l am sure I ant
well 'enough."
Our hero, however, was compelled to keep his bed
two entire days, in consequence of the fever, a period
which seemed to him anHge.
We shall not attempt to describe his meeting with
Ellen. Let us pass over the ,first few minutes of this
interview.
"I have but one thing to regret," he said at last, in a
low whisper,'for Mr. and Mrs. Thorndike were-at the
other end of the aparttne i nt, "and that is the loss of your
miniature. I had it around my neck wheri 1 went into
battle, but have not seen it since." '
Ellen smiled archly and drew it from her bosom.
"How did it roach your possession?" ho said in sur
prise. And taking it in his hand, ho added, "what
means this dent, so much like tho mark of a ball?"
Tears gushed to Ellen's eyes, as sho said—•'Captain
WastritigteM, who gave it mo, said that it lay over your
heart, and that but for it, Tarletou's pistol fillot would
have killed you. Oh: Albert, I sometimes thought after
I gave it. You„ that I had done wrong, knowing that my
parents would not approve of the act; but when I heard
that it had saved your life, I saw in it the hand of Provi
dence."
"Yes, for it not only presorved mo from doalh, but
was the moons of interesting Washington in our favor,
and thus bringing about' this happy ro-union," said Al
bert, after a pause.
We havo no more to tell. Oa recovering from his
wound, our hero rejoined his corps, with which he con
tinued until the expulsion of tho British from the Caro
linas."
After that happy event he was married to Ellen, and
with her spent a long life of felicity.
Their deeendants still preserve the battered miniature
as an heir loom.—Graham's Magazine.
Tan WAY TO Do Iv.4Tho Cincinnati Nonpareil. Bays
a young man of wealt h and respectability, in that city.
got a wife last week. in very short order. Passing thro'
one of the markets. he was struck with the beauty of a
very pretty girl who had accompanied her parents to the
market on that day. The enamored swain immediately
sought au introduction. requested of the parents their fa.
vocable consideration Of his suit, proposed to the young
lady , was accePlA. and,the next day—=married.
MY A worries° recently tookplacii at Quebec. Cana
da. in which,the bridegrona was 'aged 14 and the bride
13 years. The boy iinprunsd upon the clergyman by
wearing false , whiskers. and ihir girl by Cation 6rieme•
r4l,
moNWAsin.AI
SATURDAY MORNING, JUNE 9, 1849,
• 11111441121322.
IT WILLIJAI n. BUILLEIOII,
The strife is O'er—Death's seal is set
On ashy lip and marble brawl
*Tis o'er, though faintly lingers yet
Upon the cheek a lice•like glow;
The feeble pulse bath throbbed its 1351-7
The aching head is laid at rest—
Another (tout our ranks bath passed,
The dearest and the loveliest! -
Press down the eyelids—for the light,
Erewhlle so radiant underneath,
Is snatched forever from our si ght,
And darkened by the spoiler:Death;
Press down Eye eyellds—eho can bear
-To look btneath !dice-fringed fel , ll
• And softly part the silken hair
• Upon the brow So destllly cold.
4 Plie strife is o'er; the loved of years'
To whOni our yearning hearts had grown,
thith left U 9, with Life's gathering fTurs
To struggle darkly and alone,
Gone, with the wealth of love which dw.
Heart-kept, with holy hearts and bight
G 0110: as the clouds of evening melt
Leyond the dark and solemn sky.
Yet mourn her not—the voice of wo
Beats not this her triumph-hung
Let SOl4OWe tears no lour( flow,
tFor life eternal le her dower!, '
Freed from the Etrth's corrupt dontr,l,
The triaia of a world like this,
,Joy! for her disembodied soul
lyr infra at the fount of perfect bli-v1
TEE QU'ARER. 9 13 REVENGE.
BY IiENRT A. BUCKINGHAM
AEIIIOB Or "TA LEE AND TRADITIoNO OF NEW YORE," LTC
"Whin purpo2.ed vengemre I forego,
Term me et %%retch, cr deem me n foe;
And %ilea an ii+Ult i forgive.
Then brand me 6S a slave and - live ,
For Whew more alire re% cape a Itundi,
If numbered t 1111 ungrateful frienas."—lt DEEM;
If we could turn over the pages of the greet book of
human life, and'read it as we read other books, while the
pet usal gave us no insight to our own characters, what
similar judgments wo Would form: The motives of ac
tion that lead to virtue or to the crime aro 'remote and
hiddeu. Like some of the rivers of the Orient, that rise
suddenly froth the sand and seek tho sea a theu‘and miles
away; wo can traco the cad, but the origin iS mysterious
and unaccountable. As well might wo attempt to find
the secret springs which gathoriu the unfathomable cav•
erns of tho earth, and thus fill the ever-flowing stream
bursting so wildly into sunshine, as seek to penetrate the
causes, which make mon so ditfercnt in thought and deed .
The timid dove will fly to the protection of her young,
and tho.gaunt and savage wolf speeds front the farmer's
sheep-fold at the bark of a cur. The bravest of all ani
mated creation are cowards when caught in Wrong-doing ;
for instinct, or mind, is a true and itmeunible instruc
tor in bodies that posses the functions of living blood.—
I said that even the !Mild dove will fly to the protection
of her young, and the kindest self-sacrificing, soli-endu
ring man, may suddenly change his nature, and become
the most cruel of foes. It is a story of REVI,NGE I have
to tell, and the change was in such a man as I have de
scribed. •
An•autumn afternoon was near its close. Tho tiff
had been warm, but the chilling air of approaching night
had began to dispel the forenoon bents; and etery native
of our clitnato is ewuro that our Octobers ever are of
times cold and gloomy: This is more particulatly Alto
case in high wood lands, or on the margins ofour northern
rivers. A road, seldom uged, runs over the ridges of a cer
tain part dfa highlands of the Hudson and decend that
zag fashion to tho very banks of the rivers again ascend,
another spur of tho mountains. .It was an ancient road
following only by residents who knew its locality well:
for a military road running parallel, hut a mile further
from the banks of tho river, bad from its better conbtruc. ,
lion, its nearer level and less toikome usbont, became the
routo of ordinary travelers, whether pedesttions or horsee.
men.
The laSt lingering rays of the sun slanted across the'
noble stream, as on one of the clear spots of dm woody
bight wo have mentioned on the old road, a solitary tray;
eler paused wiped his brow, and eagerly gazed both up
and down the river. Ile was a young man of atalwai I
frame, arrayed in a gsrp which indicated nothing pecu
liar by which to judge of the occupation or calling of the
manly wearer.. It was certainly not utilitur , , for in spite
of the thrice bes,carried no weapon of any kind. Neither
could you imagine it to be one engaged in any handic l raft
of trade, and the small hands and feet of this person for
'
`bade any suspicion that he was engaged in servile labor.
Perhaps when he stood erect, the easy carriage of his
shoulders and the regularity of lais.step gave somewhat
of a b earing _to Ist._ t l / 4 ure and general,outline.
"I cannot fumy what should send the enemy's wur
ships so far up the bay." he mused aloud, ,"Gates, at
the last accounts from tho 'southern camp, completely
prevented any further advance of,,llurgo ne; iiideed, the
rumors were that the Bisitish General was in close quar
ters, and that it was as dangerous for him to retreat as
, to, move on. Perhaps Sir Henry with his Ileet,,inteit'ds
making,a further feint up the river to draw off a portion
of Gates' troops. but 1 am much ,mistaken if it is not now
too late."
A distant cannon shot and the lowering of the red ban
ner of England from the mast-heads of the far-otriMipsi
while faint music swept down tho water, were signs that
the sun had just set; and amid • the startling echoes that
the discharge of the piece, of artillery had awakened
among the clifk, the traveler turned upon his journey._
Dark clouds, though as yet faint, wero gathering round
the sinking ann, and the fitful edding gusts of wind, us
they passed over the hills, stirring up here and there the
falionleaves Of the forest, made every thing sombre. The
young man buttoned his coat closer, saying— -
"The winds are sharp and hitter for so early in the
season. It id well that I sin so near my' journey's end,
and shalt sleep at home again, aftersolong au absencel”
Idle thought! Already Death was swinging his scythe,
and marking the victim that stood like a blade of grass
in its swoop.
Turning an'anglo on the_ rocky road. the young mon
came almost in' contact with a person who was advan
cing. rind both mutually halted.
"Hugh Dobson. the man of all others I would like to
meet at this moment! Your hand, old comrade."
"Henry Clarkson! welcome home again. Y ou
, return
as a brand from the burning," was the reply, as a grasp
was interchanged. I -
The new personage wits a hardy-looking farmer, ,and
ho led 'a horse upon whose back wore two heavy sacks
of grain.
"How are they at home, Hugh?" quickly asked . the
youog man. not yet letting go tho hand of his acquain
tance.
"Your father was well two hours ago. Does he ex
poet you home think?"
"Yes, yes; but you have not told me about my char
ming little Fan., Is she as lively as ever?"
"Yes; and she'll be powerild glad to see you. Master
Harry. She's annoyed. through I rather guess, by that
scamp Darlington, that you horse-whipped the day be
fore you left." •
Both the speakers were too busy to noticethe branches .
of a thicket skirting the road within a row feet of them
Move-gently - 'asunder as the word Darlington escaped ,
and two sclowling ayes glared urn thorn both; nor that
111
tho polished barrel 01l tho musket, glimmered for an in
stant and was then withdrawn, ' • -
should 'like to meet him, the lying wretch, once
again, and only this cliff between us and death! The
struggle would not be long before one or the other went
over head-foremost. But how does ho annoy my dark
ling 56;1"
"By coming to the house with terrible storiek."
"Does he drag in my name?" [ f L
"Yes; and that is what makes the trouble" _
"In what war?"
•Ono day that you have be t en disgraced ht camp;
another. that 'you were dying from a woutid received in
a skirmish; and then perhaps that you hare been taken
prisoner by the king's troops and mit on trial as a cruel
rebel, for murdoring and plundering."
"No wonder that poor Fan's letters have been' so
gloomy of late. Let Dick Darlington look to himself if
I meet him. His "passes" and "protections" hom both
sides aro now well known, and a price is on his head. ?
Mark my words, Hugh. It may be written that I shall
not live to see ; the end; but that scoundrel will die a fear
ful death." '
Again the thielcot moved with greatori agitation than
borbre, but still unnoticed.
“He has no friends among us, Ilarri•; but! ant on my
way to mill, near night as it is. I have not a btt of flour
at home.
_I shall see you at daylight to-morrow morn-
ing."
"Good bye, Hugh. It ig new two years since 4 'left
home, and lamon my third campaign. 1 wrote Fan to
meet me just at night fall, in the shadow of the "Eagle's
Rock," and l see the ledge yonder. ITO-morrow morn-
Mg. be it whop we meet, for before the sun is two hours
high I must b e on my return."
• They parted—the young man plunging into the deep
recesses of the woods, whilst the farmer passed on the
road.
Tho overshadowing' pall of death fell with the gather
lug drearydarkness of the night, and hung over the ill
fated youth. Death by the hand of the assassin; followed
his loath. A moment-after .ho disappeared, another fig
ure,lwith the face of an angry Moloch, stole like a treach
erous eat behind and traced the unsuspecting youth on
his gloomy way.
Ten minutes, perhaps, might have elapsed, when th?
discharge of a single musket was hoard in the woods, a
faint wailing cry arose, and then the struggle of a strong
Man in his agony; but it lusted not long. A person came
r'hshing out of the woods covered with blood, and his•
garments torn in many places to shreds. Ho looked
wildly round the open road to see if in the twilight ho
was observed; then he gave a to's of his musket over the
cliff, and a faint splashltold that the waters had closed
above it, Descending Swiftl., but cautiously, ho reached
the shores of the Hudson,•and unmooring a Small skiff,
pulled off in the ttream in the direction of the ships,
whose dark hulls were yet visible in the falling mists.
At the time of the sound of the gun in the woods, not
fur distant from the scene of murder, a girl of about
seventeen years of ago was anxiously mvaitidg the ap
pronch of some one. She was in the first blush. of wo
manhood, like a rose-bud half opened. Beautiful she
was exceedingly: hut at the moment the gun was fired,
an anxious and startled look hung over her otherwise ra
diant features.
"It is past.the hour lie was to reach the rock.
that found!"
A wild scream, not of fear, but rather of defiance, rose
amid the edding of the winds, and swept around the base
•of the rock. A dock of crows sent forth their dismal
clawing, disturbed from their shelter'in the lofty pine.
Drdpping a small basket, she sped in the direction of the
scream. .In a moment she stood amid a small opening
in the forest. There was yet sufficient light to indicate
the position of things in the opening; the dying leaves
were trampled and bloody. IVith his head upon a rock,
his eyes glassy, the blood ebbing forth from a fatal wound
s in the lido, which had reached hia vitals, the young girl
recognized ono she dearly loved.
"Brother!" she said, in a scream °regally; "who has
done this wicked, cursed, oh! cursed leed7"
Ho was dying, 'and could nor speak. Tho youth took
her hand, and faintly pointed to a name scrawled by his
bloody fingers upon the 101110 moss of the rock. The
!otters were distinct—the name was ”DARLINGTON."
"Oh, God! Oh, God! Rrother hear me:"
A faint smile gathered round his mouth. - A sister's
breast was his death pillow as lie passed out of existence.
Half an hour later there were two corpses resting with
their arms , around cacti other in that solitary spot.—
Brother and sister had passed away together. A house
dog'came scoatiirg'into the thicket, following the track of
ono that had fed him. from day to day; for she) ( wed the
brute for tier brother''s sake—it was his favorite dog. Ile
scented the two bodies, and then, with grief almost bu
nion, his melancholy howl rose wild and high. The
storm gathered, the chilling rains canto down through
the long night but the faithful watcher of the dead. heed
od it not. No wild beast dare disturb the lifeless flesh
whilst that noble animal guarded his sacred trust, •
The next afternoon, a swelling mound covered the
remains near the Spot where the dead were found, and
over that mound was a new passion roused. A futhees
oath was chronieled—'''VErionascif is MINE,"• SLtith the
Lord.
I=
Two days after, the outpost of Colonel Sheldon of the
light dragoons, wore established close upon the lines of
the neutral ground. The Colonel had just risen from
breakfast, in tho ciesulato ferm•huuio whore he had taken
up his qua•tere, when an orderly told him that a stronger
wished to sea him. •
"Bring hint in."
The orderly returned with a sedate looking man of
about fifty years of age, whose dress was plain, but
made from substantial Inaterials, tho ahapo of which,
with his broad brimmed hat, denoted him a member of
tho Society of Friends.
"Is thy name Sheldon; and doom thou load this bind
of armed. men?"
"Roth."
"War is a bad calling, Mond: yet last night I scorch
ed the scriptures diligently, and I find that the Lord
wills it on tunny occasions. I sanctified myself with
prayer after manifold sulterings of body, and have
come now to aid thy cause."
"nut I- thought your creed would not allow you to
take up arms." said Sheldefit
"I am in the
, Lord's hands. I can aid you without
any 'weapons save my nakedhande."
"How em Ito depend upon you?" inquired Sheldon.
"The word of George Clarkson has never been doubt
eV was the reply..
"Are you then Goorgo Clarkson, the 'kind Quaker.'
as he Is called through the camp, who has a son in our
army, a great favorite with the Cominunder-in.ohief?"
"My name is Ge ergo Clarksv. I had a son—the
youth you speak of, but ho is dead."
"Doe& I saw hint three days ego as full of life as
the best of us," sold Sheldon. . •
' "Even so; .but is dead:"
Tho Quaker thou proceeded to relate the facts of ha
death. and narrate the blbw far Sheldon to strike, which
would not only inflict injury upon the enemy, but bring
his son's Martiertie to "justice.: Sheldon was pleased
with the plati, and an hot* before sun-set saw My of his
dismounted troopers. • togeibeFivith as many of conti
nental infantry, led bihimself, under the guidance of
George , Clarkson, the Friend, and concealed from obser
vation under somo rushes near a funding-plseo od thu
banks of the Iludson, but wltore the ships of war Could
bei soon from the ambush.
A short tint° bofore night, four boats loaded with niers
and soldiers left the ships for obtaining fresh Provisions
from tho shoro. The beats disombarkod their crews with
in half-musket shot of Shelden's party, andpalted oncthe
beach.
this the path that leads to where the cattle, are
collected, Mr. Darlington—for I believe that is your
name?" said the oil [ leer in co mm end of the boats:
"Yes, sir, but you will have to proceed cautiously, for
the rebels tiro alert rogues."'
"NI-Arch! Forward, mon:" was the order. They bad
not gene twenty yards. when a terrible fire of rifles and
musket; was opened all around them. Tho men, panic
struck, 'rushed back for thelmats; but two of them had
piished off,_and the others were so completely under the
fire of the Americans that few of the party made their
escape. Tile survivors 'surrendered. But where sae
' Darlington and tho old Quaker' The termer rushed for
the boats and plunged into the river. The father of
Henry Clarkson was in pursuit. De also leaped in—ho
overtook, with superhuman strength, the murderous
ruffil.n—there was a terrible struggle in the element—
a sinking of b•Ah / p . arties in the waters that closed over
them—a few bubblesroso to the surface, and all wes
over. The QUAKER had been avenged—though his life
was a forfeit.
COMPLIMENTARY.—ThiCincinuati Commercial tolls a
good stars., It says: "How often is it that a rosy-shaded
man, whomever indulges in the use of ardent spirits, is
enspected of taking a drop now and then." An occur
rence which took place yo:terd•iy morning verifies the
fast:
"Our old friend, William Luck. was passing along
Fourth street, early_ after breakfast, when his progress
was politely arrested by a well dressed, well-fad gen de
man frotn the country. with
"Sir, can you inform me:where I can procure .n few
gallons of lino old braiidy? 1 wish to to take it out to
my place for private use."
"Well sir," said Mr; L., "1 am informed that Mr.
S of the Bank Exchange, is an fiat in those matters.
and will supply you."
So, after showing the stranger where Mr. S— was
to be found. continued,•''You have the advantage of int)
—1 don't knot you."
"Nor do I know you." replied the s tranger: '"but you
look liko a man who knows where the best brandy in
town is to be found." -
i•lr. L. bowed to the stranger, and passed down the
street, muttering that ho did pot know which excelled.
the man's politenes,s, or his impudence.
• MAT'S TM Ow:v.—The Rev Dr.---4 what is com
monly denominated "a celrbroted preacher." Ills repu
lion, however, has not been acquired by his driwing,
largely upon his own stores of knowledge and eloquence.
but by the skill 'with which he appropriates the thoughts
and, language of the great divines who have gone before.
him. Fortunately for hint, those who compose a, fash
ionable audience are not deeply read in the pulpit lore,
and accordingly, with such hearers, he passes for a won
der of erudition and pathos. It did, nevertheless. hap
pen that the doctor was orteo detected in his plagiarisms.
One Sunday as he was beginning to delight tho'spright
lybeaux and belles belonging to his congregation, a grave
'old gentleman seated himself close to the pulpit; and lis
tened with profound attention. The doctor had scarce
ly finished his third sentence before the grave old gentle
man muttered, loud enough to be heard by these near
him, "That's S'iorto •lt!" The doctor frowned but went
On. Ho hail MA proceeded much farther, ashen his tor
menting in to upto r broke out With "That's Tilletsou
The deter bit his lips and panned; but agen turned
of his discourse. A third exclamation of "That's Blair's:"
was, however, too much, and completely exhausted alt
hie patience. Leaning over the pulpit, "Fellow," ho
cried, "if yob do not hall your tongue you shall go put.-"
Without altering aMmiele of his countenance, the grave
old gentleman lifted up his head, and looking the doctor
in the face, retorted. "That's his own:"
Tun DoTr or Swisidielm of t h e Pitts
burgh Saturday Visitor ,says:
No man can 'is" front the workman's rank! Fun he
may, and often does, from that ectute, but to rise ' , above
the order the Lord has established to govern Ifissverld„
is impossible.—F.very man should bo a workman, and
hit a wurkman's rark! IYe must fill that or a loafer's.
Ile who made the world never made a spot oft it for, an
idler! lie never made a 111311 who loss to'. lire by his
Own brains alone, or such an ono would have been all
brains. Body and soul; 'ewers physical and mental, aro
to be us'ed; else they would never have been given; and
whoever finds himself nith a pair of hands, ti set of
bones and muscles, may rest assured he has a command
to bse them. If our worthy men endure privations and
contend with difficulties, the fact forms no arg;ument
duit privations and difficulties should he provided gratis
for the rest of the world! Whore ono 'surmounts these
difficulties and reaches the g‘roateryoubles of too 'much
wealth, 'ten sink tinder them, and end life toiling for its
necessaries.
,TIIE OLDEST MAY Is AisEntot.—Georgo Bnckhart,
living in Harlan county, Ky.., is ono of tho must extra
ordinary moo of tho age, and perhaps is the oldest man
now known to be living. Ho is one hundred and four
teen years old; was born in Germantown. renusy vania.
end has lived for several years in a hollow sycamore trop.
•of such largo dimensions as to contain his familyi, con
sisting of a wife and five or six children, bed anti bed
ding, cooking utensils, &e. The exploring none of the
American Bible Socity,ln his travels in Kentucky. re-
/
contly found him. ail ON saw several respectable genz
tlemon who had spin more nights with him in
this singular home. Ho p - ofes to hold the Lutheran
faith, being eta Geri* fainifY. - and received the Biblo
with peculiar nianifestaiions of dratitude. What a life
for one man to spend! WliSt a long train of events has
marked this contury,.thronwhich he has drawn the
thread of existoncet—Bite Sociv liicord, for May.
A SHEET OF PA i9 l { curious to rofloct upon"
what uses 'a sheet of paper m ybe put to. It lies before '-
you in a State of virgin purity] and its utmost valuo is a
cent, It is scrawled ovii",with pothooks and hangers, a
few "prornises,to pay" aril / Written on it, and it becomes
good for thousands of "dollhrs. A piece of wedding cake
is wrapped in it, and it is kissed by the rosy lip of alum
ly maiden, placed under her pillow, as a spell to conjure
up in her dreams a handsome lover, a fine estato. It Is
received by ono person, and ho blesses it for bringing
him the glad Wins of his promotion to a fortune; by
'another, and he curses it for information that he is die
inherited.. In accordance with the characters upon it, it,
lights up the nyc or watcfrs the che4—it makes the heart
throb with joy or quail with sorrow—it is treasured as a
precious relic, or torn into pieces with inconceival*,
disgust. .
ccr Tho grave buries every error—covers/every dofe
—extinguishci .every • resentment. „Front its "pose
bosom springs none but fond regrets 'and tendon rano -
dons. Who can look down upon the grave of an a Y.
and not feel a compunctious throb that he shoo are
warred with the poor handful of earth thatlies
trig before him!
IMI
II
NUMBER 4.