The Somerset herald and farmers' and mechanics' register. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 183?-1852, 1846-02-03
From the Ladies' National Magazine
THE YOUNG REBEL.
A TALE OF THE CAROLlNAs.
BY ]. NJ. SAUNDERS.

In small farmhouse, towards the close
of the year 1880, sat an old man, his wife
! and only son. The face of the father
appeared troubled; at times he looked
thoughtful on the floor, and then he would
gaze long and wistfully at his son, a fine,
manly youth of twenty. At length he
said:-
"David, this is disastrous news from
| Camden. God knows what will become
of the country now! / wish this old
wound | got in the French war had not
lamed me--but for it, | should be now
shouldering my musket and marching to
defend my country"
Both the wife and son looked up at
these words. The old lady ceased knit
ting and gazed enquiringly at her boy,
and it was evident from the expression of
her face, that patriotism and motherly af-
fection were at variance in her BOSOM
The son, however, after cncountering his
fathers eye for moment, turned confu-
sedly away. The old mans brow dar-
kened, and he said warmly
"David, David, why do YOU linger a.
bout the village when your country needs
your service so much! why, son; | am
ashamed of you Twice before this
have spoken TO you on this subject, but
you appear to have no spirit! What! will
you see us trampled upon by the brutal
mercenaries of Britain, and still lie here
supinely! For shame, David, for shame!
| will not call you my son. Long since
you ought to have been in the army"
"Joshua, joshua" interposed the old
mother, "David is but youth, then do
not speak TO him so harshly. He cannot
feel what you feel, who have fought so
often against your country's enemies
Joshua he is but boy."
"A boy, indeed, Deborah! such BOYS
as David have already gained imperisha-
BILE laurels since the war commenced. |
could name host of them! Whv, were
ii not for the boys of this land, where
would be our army, which | dare say, is
one quarter composed of David's age"
The old man was excited, and it was the
first unkind word that he had ever spo-
ken to his boy.
David arose and left the house. He
walked come distance apparently in deep
thought.
"What will not woman do?'' he at last
muttered; "here | have been lingering a.
bout the village when should have been
off long ago. And for what!-why to
meet pretty girl, and to listen to her
musical voice; but now | will be myself
againl What did he call me? was it not
a COWARD? Now, by heavens, | will
learn him that he has a son who possess
ses the spirit Of his father. Away, then
with love, for feel that am called upon
to act, and no longer to dream! Ere a
fortnight my father shall hear from me,
or else lose my life in striving for it. !"
And with this resolution, ne turned about
and retraced his steps.
When he had reached home, he sought
the stables, saddling his horse and noun
ting him, struck into gallop, which he
continued for several miles. AT length
he stopped and looked at the windows ot
farm house, half hid between the clus-
tering trees. This was the residence ol
Mary Bunker, the mistress Of his heart;
the light showed that the family had moi
retired, and he resolved to pay her visit
before his departure.