The Kalida venture. [volume] (Kalida, Ohio) 1841-1865, 1846-02-05

the British soldiers, mad with rage, gaze
upon the high wall of logs and stone, and
vent their anger in drunken curses.
Now look to yonder window! Where the
young girl stood moment ago, quivering
with suspense, as she behold her father
struggling for his life, now stands that old
man himself his brow barred, his arm grasp
ing the rifle, while his grey hairs wave back
from his wrinkled and blood-dabbled face
That was fine picture Of an old veteran,
neryed for his last fight; stout warrior,
preparing for his death struggle.
Death-strugge2 Yes!--for the old man,
Isaac Wampole, had dealt too many hard
blows among the British soldiers, tricked,
foiled, cheated them too often to escape now
A few moments longer, and they would be
reinforced by strong party of refugees; the
POWDER the arms, in the old block-house,
perhaps that daughter, herself, was to be
their reward. There was scarcely hope
for the old man, and yet he had determined
to make desperate fight.
"We must bluff off these rascals!" he
said, with grim smile, turning to his child
"Now, Bess, my girl, when | fire this rife,
do you hand me another, and SO on, until the
whole eight shots are fired! That will keep
them ON the other side of the wall, for few
moments, at least, and then we will have to
trust to God for the rest!'
Look down there, and see, a hand stealing
over the edge of the wall! The old men
levels his piece-that British trooper falls
back with crushed hand upon his comrades
heads!
No longer quivering with suspense, but
grown suddenly firm, that young girl passes
loaded rifle TO the veterans grasp, and ST.
lently awaits the result.
For moment all is silent below; the
British bravoes are somewhat 10th to try
that wall, when stout old " Rebel rifle in
hand, is looking from yonder window! Hero
is pause-low, deep murmurs-they are
holding council! =.
A moment is gone, and nine heads are
thrust above the wall at once-hark! One
-two-thrce! The old veteran has fred
three shots, there are three dying men,
grovelling in the yard, beneath the shadow
of the wall
"Quick, Bess, the riAes"
And the brave girl passes the rifles to her
fathers grasp there are four shots, one after
the other; three more soldiers fell back, like
weights of lead, upon the ground, and sim
gle red-coat is seen, slowly mounting to the
top of the wall, his eye fixed upon the hall
door, which he will force, ere moment is
gone!
Now the last ball is fired, the old man
stands there, in that second-story window,
his hands vainly grasping for another loaded
rife! At this moment, the wounded and
dying band, below, are joined by a party of
some twenty refugees, who, cIad in their
halfrobber uniform, came rushing from the
woods, and, with one bound, are leapng for
the summit of the wall.
"Quick, Bess, my rihe!
And look there-even while the veteran
stood looking out upon his foes, the brave
girl-for, slender in form, and wildly beau
tiful in face, she is brave girl, a Hero-Wo-
man--had managed, as if by instructive i'm
pulse, to load rifle. She handed it to her
father, and then loaded another and another! !!
Wasn't that beautiful sight? A fair young
girl, grasping powder and ball, with the
ramrod, rising and falling in her slender fin
gers! 49,
tSI,Now look down to the wall again! The
|4efugees are clambering over its summit
again that fatal aim-again that horrld cry, and
another wounded man topping down upon
his dead and dying comrades!
But now look!-A smoke rises there, a
fire blazes up around the wall; they have
fred the gate. A moment, and the bolt and
,he lock will be burnt from its sockets--the
passage will be free! Now is the fiery mo-
ment of the old mans trial! While his brave
daughter loads, he continues to fire, with
that deadly aim, but now-oh horror! lie
falls, he falls, with musquet ball driven into
his breast-the daughters out-stretched
arms receive the father, as, with the blood
spouting from his wound, he topples back
from the window.
All. it is sad and terrible picture!
That old man, wrthing there, ON the oaken
floor, the young daughter bending, over him,
the light from the window streaming over her
fathers grey hairs, while the ancient furnl-
ture of the small chamber affords dim
back ground to the scene!
Now bark THE sound of axes, at the
hall door--shouts--h s--hurras--curses!
"We nave the old rebel, at last!'
The old man raises his head at that sound;
makes an effort to rise; clutches for rifle,
and then falls back again, his eyes glarlng,
as the fierce pain of that wound quivers
through his heart.
Now watch the movements Of that daugh-
ter. Silently she loads a rifle, silently she
rests its barrel against the head of the pow
der-keg, and then, placing her finger on the
trigger, stands over her fathers form, while
the shouts of the enraged soldiers come
tbnnder;nn from the stairs. Yes, they have