The Lancaster ledger. [volume] (Lancaster, S.C.) 1852-1905, 1856-10-01
THE HERO WOMAN.

luton, quaint old fabric, built of mingled
logs and stone, and escirtled by pail.
sade Of wall. 1t had been erected in the
carrier DAYS of William Penn, perhaps
some years before the great apostle OF
peace trod our shores-as rs a block-housc,
attended as a defence against the Indians.
And now it stood with its many roofs,
It's numerous chimneys, It's massive square
windows, its varied front of logs and stone,
ITS encircIimg wall, through which admit
lance WAS gained by a large and stouty
built gate; itstood in tho midst of wood.
with age woEn trees enclosing its veteran
outline on every sile.
From It's western window YOU might
obtain glimpse Of the SchuylkiIl waves,
While large easement of the southern
front commanded view of the winding
road as II sunk ont Of view under the
shade of thickly clustered boughs, into a
deep hollow, not more than II hundred
yards from the mansion.
Here, from the southern easement. on
one OF those balmy summer DAYS which
look in upon the drcary autumn, toward
the close OF November, Il farmers daugh-
ter was gazing with dia,ing eyes and
cIasped hands.
Well might she gaze earnestly to the
south, and listen with painful intensity Tor
the slightest sound q, Her brothers were
away with the armies of Washington.
and her father, a grim old veteran-he
stood SIX feet three inches in his stockings
-who.haI manifested his bate for the red
coat Invaders in many a hard fought con.
test, had that morning left her alone in
the old mansion, alone in this small cham
ter, III charge of some ammunition in
tended for "a band Of brave farmers, sbou,
to JOIN the hosts Of freedom. Even as
she stood there, gazing out Of the south
trn window, faint glimpse Of sunlight
from the faded leaves above, pouring over
her mild face, shaded by clustering brown
hair, there not ton PAGES from her side.
were seven loaded rifles and a kcr of
powder.
Leaning from the easement, she listen
ed with every nerve quirering with sus-
pensc TO the shouts Of comLatauls, the
hurried tread Of armed men, cchong from
the south.
There was something very beautiful in
that picture ! The form Of the Young
girl, framed by the square massive window,
the contrast between the rough timhers
that ENCLOSED her, and the rounded face,
the lips parting, the hazel eye diatiug,
and the check warming and hushing with
nope and lear; there was something very
beautiful IN that picture, a young girl
leaning from The window Of an old man
sion, with her brown hair waving in CLOS.
Sy masses around her face.
Suddenly the shouts Of the south grew
nearer, and then, emerging from the deep
hollow, there came an old man, running
at full speed, yet every few PAGES turning
round 10 fire the rifle, which he loaded as
he ran. lie was pursued by ten or more
British soldiers who came rushing on with
fixed bnyonets, as if to strike their victim
down, ere he advanced ten PAGES nearer
to the house.
On and on tie old man came, while his
daughter, quiverng with suspense, hung
leaning from the window he reaches the
block house ga,e-look Icis surround
ed, their muskets are leveed at his head
he Is down, down AZ their feet graphing
for his life But look again lie dashes
his foe aside, with one bold movement he
springs through the gate, an instant, and
1t is locked the British soldiers, mad with
rage, gaze upon the high walls of log AMI
stone, ana vent their anger in drunken
curses.
Now look to yonder window Where
the young girl. stood inomeal ago, quiy-
ering with suspense, as she behrld her
father struggling for his life, now stands
the old man himself, his brow barred, his
hand grasping the rifle, while his gray
hairs wave back from his wrinked and
blood dabbled face Thai WAS a fine
picture Of an old veteran, neryed for his
last fight; a stout warrior preparing for
his death struggle!
Death struggled Ycs!-for the old
man Isaac Wampoie, had dealt TOO many
hard blows among the British soldiers,
trlcked, ioiIed, cheated them too often to
escape now. A few moments longer and
they would be reinforced by strong par
ty Of refugees; The powder, the arms in the
Old block house, perhaps that daughter
herself, was to be their reward. There
was scarcely a hope for the old man, and
yet be had determined 10 make desper.
ate fight.
awe must bluff off those rascas I" he
said with q grim smile, turning to his
child. Now, Bess, my girl, when fire
this rifle do you hand me another, and so
on, until the whole eight are fred !! That
will keep them on the other side Of the
wall, for few moments at least, and then
we will have 10 trust TO God for the
rest ~
Look down there and see hand steal
ing over the wall The old man levels
his piece-tbat British officer falls back
with crushed hand upon his comrades
heads.
No longer quiyering with suspense, but