Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1855-08-30
EVENING STAR.
THE YOUNG REBEL.
TALE OF THE CARoLINAs.

the year 1870, sat an old man. his wife, and a,
only son. The face of the father appeare
troubled; at times he looked thou ghtfully q
the floor, and then he would gaze long an,
wistfuily at his son, fine, manly youth o
twenty. At length he said:
David, this is disastrous news from Cam
den. God knows what will become of tn,
country now, Congress needs every arm tha
is capable; ah, me, L wish this old wound
got in the French war had not lamed me bu
for 1T should now be shouldeIing my muske
and marching to defend my country"
Both son and wife looked up at these words
The old lady ceased knitting, and looked in
quiringly at her boy, and it was evident, from
the expression of her face, that patriotism and
motherly affection were at variance in hel
bosom. The son, however, after encounterine
his fathers eye for moment turned confus
edly away. The old mans brow darkened
and he exclaimed warmly:
david, why do you linger about the village
when your country needs your services &C
much Why, my son, / am ashamed of you
Twice before this have L spoken to you on thi.
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 mo-
Il .
speak so harshly to him. He cannot yet feel
what you feel, who have fought SO often against
your cOuntry's enemy-he is but a boy 4"
"a boy, indeed, Deborah, Such boys as
David have already gained imperishable lau-
rels since the war commenced. could name
a host of them, Why, were it not for the
boys of this land where would be our army,
which, L dare say, Is one quarter composed of
boys of his age,''
The old man was excited, and it was the
first unkind word he had ever used to his boy.
David rose and left the house. He walked
some distance, apparently in deep thought.
| What will not woman do!' he at last NUT
| tered. Here / have been lingering about
| the village when should have been of long
| ago. And for what? why, to meet pretty
| girl, and to listen to her musical voice; but
now L viii be myself again, What did he
| call me was il not a cOUard1 Now by
| Heaven, L will teach him that he has a son
who possesses the spirit of his father Away,
| then, with love, for L feel that am called
upon to act; no longer dream, Ere another
| fortnight my father shall hear of me. OF else
lose my life in striving for it'' And with
| this resolution he turned about and retraced
| his steps.
| When he reached home he sought the sta
| bic, saddled his horse, and mounting him.
struck into gallop, which continued for sew
| eral miles. At length he stopped and looked
\ up at the windows OF farmhouse, half hid
between clustering trees. This was the resi-
| deEce of Mary Bunker, the mistress of his
| heart; :he lights showed that the family had
| not retired, and he resolved to pay her a visit
before his departure
She was alone when he entered, and a few
words made her acquainted with his determi-
nation. When she burst into tears
Nay, Mary, he added, you must not un-
mSn me. At first L resolved to leave Won
without farewell. for L knew how much YOU
dreaded my taking an active part in the
struggle. But could not be so cruel as to
desert you without q word
"I will compose myself said the fair giil.
, with an effort to smile. +" L know have been
wrong to persuade you to stay; but you can
not imagine the anxieties L suffer on account
of my brothers, and Icould not bear YOU to en-
| counter their danger. But since this dread
full defeat at Camden, l feel that every man
| Is wanted for our coultry. Go. then dearest,
| and may God be with you. My prayers shall
| attend you night and day.
David pressed the weeping girl to his bosom,
snatehed hasty kiss at the sound of approach
| ing footsteps, wrung her hand and was gone.
The next day he left the neighborhood of
his fathers house armed with a musket and
mounted on sturdy horse. His destination
was the American camp, then far northward
but as the intervening country was filed with
the enemy, he knew there would be consider
able address required TO effect his purpose
Before bis departure he saw n few OF his old
piaymates who promised to follow as soon as
possible.
Night found him near a lonely farm house
to which he proceeded boldly, in pursuit of
lodging. At first the occupant received him
coldly, but a chance expression convincing
David that MS host was tory, he affected the
same political creed, and was immediately
warmly welcomed. The royalist produced
his cider after supper, and insisted that David
should join him in his potations this the
young man did, taking care not to indulge
too freely, while the farmer, overjOyed to find
what he supposed to be a new recruit for his
party, drank without stint, and became more
and more communicative. To his horror Da-
yid sOon learned that party of loyalists. led
by Major Wilson, celebrated for his toryism |
and ruthleSsness, were To start early on the
ensuing day on an expedition 10 seize and |
hang the two Bunkers, who had N adc them
selves particularly obnoxious to the royslist |
leaders. David knew enough of this partizan |
warfare to be assured that no mercy would be |
shown his friends lie also knew enough of |
the character of the Major, that TO suspect |
that some strong personal motive had led 10 /
the planning Of SO distant an expedition when |
there were Others nearer home He accord |
ingy set himself to discover frcm his half inc |
bnated companion the truth. Nor was he |
long before success crowned his adroit cross. |
examination.
"Why you see,' said the host, +" | believe |
there's little revenge for the slight received |
from these fellows sister. mixed UP with the |
Majors desire to catch the Buukers The girl |
is very pretty they say, and the Major when |
she was down here on a visit last year-before |
the war-wanted to marry her, but she would |
have nothing to do with him. Ever since. he |
has vowed to make her rue the day You |
may depend upon it, he will have her on his |
own terms now. Thank Heaven there's no |
law to prevent an honest royalist from doing |
as he pleases TO these rascaIly rebels But |
yonder is the Major now" suddenly said the |
host, starting up. II will introduce you at |
Once-a merry fellow you'll find him. Lord |
love you, he's as brave as a lion
David, though Mortified at the Giabolical |
plot he had heard, saw the necessity Of dis |
sembling in order to hear more of the tory's |
plans, and find means, if possible to circum- |
vent them. He arose, therefore, and shook |
the Majors hand warmly; pledged him i'm |
mediately in bumper, and so contriyed to |
make the lOyalist believe that he was anxious
TO join troop and take part against the reb- |
els. This induced the Major to be unusually |
civil, for he wished to secure so athletic A re- |
cruit himself. 1t was not long befara n har-