Port Tobacco times, and Charles County advertiser. (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1845-1898, 1847-06-17

THE MARTYR OF THE SOUTH.

hclt 10 Sloolli to-udy III SHdllCotoh'
1t is not often that great city feels, but
when this great heart of humanity, whose
every pulsalion is life, can feel, the result
is more terrible than the bloodiest battle
Y es, when those arteries ola city, Its streets,
and lanes, and alleys, thrill with the same
feeling, when, like an electric chain, it darts
invisibly from one breast to another, until it
swells ten thousand hearts, the result is ter
ribIe.
care not whether that result is manifest
ed in a riot, that fills the streets with the
blood Of men, and women, and little chill
dren, that fires the roof over the head of the
innocent, or sends the church of God whirl-
ing in smoke and flame to the midnight sky =;
or whether that feeling is manifested in the
silence of thousands, the bowed head, the
compressed lip, the stealtby footstep, still it
is fearful thing to see.
| There is gloom to-day in Charleston.
A dead awe reigns over the city. Every
face you see is stamped with gloom; men 60
silently by, with anguish in their hearts and
eyes. Women are weeping in their darken-
ed chambers, in yonder church old men are
kneeing before the altar, praying in low,
deep, muttered tones.
| The very soldiers whom you meet, clad
in their British uniform, wear sadness on
their faces These men, to whom murder
is sport, are gloomy to-day. The citizens
pass hurriedly to and fro; cluster in groups;
whisper together; glide silently INTO their
homes.
The stores are closed to-day, as though it
were Sunday. The windows of those houses
dead there is silence on the air, as though
plague had despoied the town of its beau
~ and lis manhood.
The British banner-stained AS it is with
the best blood of the Palmetto State-seems
to partake of the influence of the hour; for,
floating from yonder staff, it does not swell
buoyantly upon the breeze, but drops heavily
to the ground.
The only sound you hear, save the hur-
ried tread of the citizens, is the low, solemn
notes flhe dead march, grooming from muf
fled drums.
Why all this gloom, that Expresses the
heart and fills the eyes? Why do whig
andtor citizen and soldier, share this loom
alike? Why this silence, this awe, this
dread
Look yonder, and in the centre Of that
common, deserted by every human thing );
behold-rising in lonely hideousness-be-
hold, GazIows.
Why does that gibbet stand there, black
ening the morning sun
| Come with me into yonder mansion,
whose roof arises proudly over all other
roofs. Up these carpeted stairs, INTO this
| luxurious chamber, whose windows are
darkened by hangings Of satin, whose walls
are covered with tapestry, whose floor is
covered with elegant furniture. All is silent
in this chamber.
A single glow of morning light steals
through the parted curtains of yonder WIN
dow. Beside that window, with his back
to the light, his face in the shadow, as though
he wished to hide certain dark thoughts
| from the light, sits young man, his hand
some form arraved in British uniform.
He is young bu, there is the gloom of age
upon that woven brow, there is the resolve
of murder upon that curling lip. His att
tude is significant. His head inclined to one
side, the cheek resting on the left hand, while
the right grasps parchment, which bears
his signature, the ink not yet dried.
That parchment is death warrant.
you will look closely upon that red uni
form, you will see that it is stained with the
blood of Paol, where the cry for ''quarter'
was answered by the falling sword and the
reeklng bayonet. Yes, this is none other
than Gen Grey, the butcher of Paoli, trans
formed by theaccolade of his King into Lord
Rawdon.
While he is there by the window, grasping
that parchment in his hand the door opens, a
strange group stand disclosed on the thresh-
hold.
A woman and three children, dressed in
black, stand there, gazing upon the English
lord. They slowly advance; do you behold
the pale face of that woman, her eyes, large
and dark, not wet with tears, but glarlng
with speechless awe? On one side, a little
girl, with brown ringleis, on the other, her
sister, one year older, with dark hair, reliev-
ing paid face.
Somewhat in front, his young form rising
to every inch of its height, stands a boy oil
thirteen, with chestnut curls clustering about
his fair countenance on can see that dark
eye flash, that lower lip culver, as he silent
ly confronts Lord Rawdon.
The woman use that word. for to me
it expresses all that is pure in passion, OF
holy in humanity, while your word-lady
means nothing but ribbons and millinery
the woman advances, and encircled by
these children, stands before the gloomy
lord.
81 have Gomez she speaks in voice
that strikes you with its music and tender
ness,"I have come to plead for my brothers
Ilifen'