The Trinity journal., 1856-09-20
The Hero w ON an.
BY GEORGE LIPPARD.

ton, quaint old fabric, built of mingled logs
and stone, and encircled by palisade wall.
1t had been erected in the early days of Will
liam Penn, perhaps some years before the
great apostle of peace first trod our shores,
as block-house, intended as defence against
the Indians.
And now it stood with its many roofs, its
numerous chimneys, its massive square win
dows, its varied fronts of logs and stone, its
encircling wall, through which admittahce
was gained by large and utly-buit gate
it stood in the midst of the wood, with age
worn trees enclosing its veteran outline on
every side.
From its western window you might OBJ
tain glimpse Of the Schuylkill waves, while
large easement in the Southern front, COM
manded view of the winding road, as it
sunk out of view, under the shade of thickly
clustered boughs, into deep hollow, not
more than one hundred yards from the man
sion.
Here, from the southern easement, in one
of those balmy days which look iii upon the
dreary autumn, towards the close of Novem-
ber, farmers daughter was gazing, with di-
lated eyes and nalf-clasped hands.
Well might she gaze earnestly to the south,
and listen with painful intensity for the slight
est sound Her brothers were away with
the army of Washington, and her father a
grim old veteran-he stood six feet and three
inches in his stockings-who had manifested
his love for the red-coat invaders in many a
desperate encounter, had that morning left
her alone in the old mansion, alone in this
small chamber in charge Of some ammuni-
ton intended for a band of brave farmers,
about to join the hosts of freedom. Even
as she stood there, gazing out Of the south
ern window, glimpse Of sunlight from the
faded leaves above, pouring over her mild
face, shaded by clustering brown hair, there
not ten passes from her side, were seven load
ed rifles and keg Of powder
Leaning from the easement, she listened
with every nerve quivering with suspense to
the shouts of combatants, the hurried tread
of armed men echoing from the south.
There was something very beautiful in that
picture The form of the young girl, franz
ed by the square, massive window, the con
/ trast between the rough timbcrs that en-
closed her and that rounding face, the lips
parting, the hazel eye dating, and the check
warming and flushing with hope and fear,
there was something very beautiful in that
picture-a young girl leaning from the win
dow of an old mansion, with her brown hair
waving in glossy masses around her face.
Suddenly the shouts from 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
to fire his rifle, which he loaded as he ran
He was pursued by party of ten or more
British soldiers, who came rushing on, their
bayonets fixed, as if to strike their victim
down ere he advanced ten PAGES nearer to
the house
On and on the old man came, while his
daughter, quivering with suspense, hung lean
ing from the window. lie reaches the block
house gate-look lie is surrounded
their muskets are levelIed at his head-he is
down, down at 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 it is lock-
ed 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 a moment ago, culver
ing with suspense, as she beheld her father
struggling for his life, now stands the old
man himself, his brow barred, his arm grasp
ing his rife, while his gray hairs wave back
from his wrinkled and blood-bcdaubcd face
That was fine picture of an old veteran,
nerved for his last Gght-a stout warrior,
| rin,r for biC Iaoth Ctrurr1o
Death struggle? Yes for the old man,
Isaac Wampole, had dealt too many hard
blows among the British soldiers, trckcd,
foiled, and cheated them too often to escape
now A few moments longer, and they
would be reinforced by a strong party Of ref
, ugees 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 q desperate fight.
1--WE must bluff off those rascals !" he
, said, with grim smile, turning to his child
"Now, Bess, my girl, when | fire this rifle,
, do you hand me another, ard 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 to the rest !"
, Look down there and see hand stealing
over the edge of the wall. The old man
levels his piece--that British soldier falls
back with crushed hand upon his comrades
heads
No longer quivering with suspense, but
grown suddenly firm the young girl passes
a loaded rifle to the veterans grasp, and 81
lently awaits the result.
For moment all is silent below. The
British bravoes are somewhat 10th to try
f that wall when stout old Rebel, #" rifle in
hand, is looking from yondcr window A
pause ensues-low, deep murmurs are heard,
they are holding council
A moment is gone, and nine heads are
thrust above the wall at once. Hark ! One,
two-three ! The old veteran has fired three
shots-there are three diving men rrOyellinr