Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1827-09-22

presents to the ardent mind Of youth,
more instances Of high sOuled patriotism
and chiyalric temeriiy than whole cen
tnrics OF ambitious warfare can boast -
He had, therefore, accumulated an in
exhauslible store of interest; and flalter-
ed by my eager attention, he would
willingly crafty me with accounts otthe
fearful onset, the arlfui ambascuade, the
secret and dangerous expedition, and all
the variety of perilous adventure which
the excited spirit Of the times engender-
cd. While i, with a glowing breast,
would now charge with him in his bat
ties, and cxult with MIN in his triumphs,
and anon participate in his Indignation
against the craven flight of the militia,
or pcrciiance drop n tear with him over
the fate Of some fine fellow, who had
fought and fallen at his side; for the old
man, beneath his rugged exterior, pos
sessed feeling heart, and would often
fclicitate himself on clear conscience
and "a hand unsaincd wi plundcr.'
The period had arrived which was to
transfer me from the humble village
schoolto more elevated seminary, from
which was to enter military academy.
Engaged in the anticipations Of variety,
ever agreeable TO youth, and the hustle
of preparation, had for some days
omitted to render my accustomed visit
to the Captain. On the morning of our
departure, however, | escaped from the
breakfast table, and bounded over the
fields to bid my kind old friend good
bye.
"Ah! Jack, you light hearted little
rogue" said the veteran, gently squecz-
ing my hand, till writhed under the
pain, "you'l soon forget your old halt
wooden Captain, but never forget your
I going to be soldier: they say you gen.
tlcnen Of the University are a set Of ar
rogant knavcs; never let 'em lord it over
you, my lad. But see, they are com
ing for you, good bye! mayhap you'll
never sec me again; my campaign in
this world is most through, and these
white locks tell me | must soon 60. into
winter quarters. But what Of that, my
boy, I've done my duty, and | who've SC
often faced death in the field, ant afraid
to meet him there. Good bye, Jack re.
member you'll be an American soldier
and never DISGRACE your calling"
did not return to my native country
until / had obtained my ieutcnancy. AL
though several years had fitted ovel
since had left my home, yet neither the
bustIe of the city, the acquisitions o
new associates, nor the adoption Of new
habits, could obscure the remembrance
or weaken the affection still felt for the
friends and feelings Of my childhood. -
| could not view the memorials ofits in
nocent hilarity with the un.eelng gaze
of apathy, and would not sneer at its in
teresting trihes, and hoart-born affec
tons, because untainted with schemes o
high souled villainy. Alas! that W.
should so contemn chldhood's unaiieci
: cd, innocent simplicity, and labour +
I substitute manhood's crafty selfishnes
for its confding generosity.
embraced the earliest opportunit,
my return afforded, to see my old frien'
Captain Butler. 1t was at the close o.
f fine autumn day, that l essayed t.
trace my now almost impcrceptibic path
overgrown and concealed by the higf
grass, which had sprung up Iuxuriantly
in the absence of the light merry foo
+ that was wont to reprcss it But ha
no d 'fliculty in recognizing a road, wit
which my heart owned and acquaintance
and could not but greet as an old frient
f each object that presented itself to m
eys accompanied by the recollection @
{ our former familiarity.
y The cottage stood on kind OF pei
insula, formed by wild rivulet that mu
f INJURED around the garden, and flowing
> short distance, was lost in the tranqu
>. SusqueIlanna, whose wide unruflled O.
s pansc was seen stretching behind Il
y house, and glowing with the mellow r.
IS dance of the departing sun. ltwas her
seated on the beach beneath an ancie
.. elm, "thnt wreathed its old fantastic noe
Ie on high" the Captain would sket'
g plans Of these appalling rencontrcs
al which he had so frequently participate
70 | turned my eyes to the front of Il
r. house; the captain was reclining on Il
ID rude bench under the canopy of tire
ID that surrounded and almost conccal
D. the dwelling, supported by his daughte
of now an aged widow, who with her o
Is spring had sought bcne eath her father
m roof refuge from the sneering chari
Of world Of strangers; at his foot
st his grandson, a rosy urchin, who repe'
Sc ed after him the following fragment OF
at revolutionary song:
nd "The lords Of naughty Albion
" May send their hordes for ave;
til The venal Hc'se may bargain on,
sr And hi savage slaves obey;