The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1857-02-05
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BY GEO. LIPPARD.


1t had been erected in the earlier days o
William Penn, perhaps years before thu
great apostle Of peace first trod our shores
as bIock-house intended for dclrns,
against Indians.
And there it stood, with its many roofs
its numerous c4imneys, It's massive square
windows, its varied front Of logs and stone
its cncircIiny wall, through which adj
mittance was gained by large and stout
Iy-built gate, 1t stood in the midst o.
the wood, with age-worn trees incIosina
its veteran outline on every side.
From its western window YOU might
obtain a glimpse Of the SchuylLiIl waves,
while large easement in the southern
front commanded view of the winding
road as it sunk out of view under the
shade of thickIy-clustered boughs, into a
deep hollow, not more than one hundred
yards from the mansion.
Here, from the southern easement, on
one of those balmy summer days which
looked in upon the dreary autumn, to-
wards the close Of November, a farmers
daughter was gazing with dilating eyes
and half-clasped hands.
Well might she gaze earnestly to tho
south, and listen with painful intensity for
the slightest sound. Her brothers were
away with the army of Washington, and
her father, grim old veteran-he stood
six feet three in his stockings--who had
manifested his love for the red-coat inva-
ders in many desperate contest, had
that morning left her alone in the old man
sion, alone in this small chamber in
charge of some ammunition, intended for
band of brave farmers about to join the
hosts of, freedom. Even as she stood
there, gazing out of the southern window,
a faint glimpse of sunlight from the faded
leaves above, pouring over her mild face,
shaded by clustering brown hair, not ten
PAGES from her side, were seven loaded
rifles and a keg of powder.
Leaning from the easement, she listen.
ed with every nerve quivering with suS
pensc, to the shouts of comRtants and
tie hurried tread of armed men. echono
from the south.
There was something very beautiful in
that picture! The form Of the young
girl, framed in the square massive window
the contrast between the rough tim
bers that enclosed her and that rounded
face, the lips parting, the hazel eye diIat-
ing, and checks flushed with hope and
fear, and there was something very beau
tllul in that picture-a young girl leaning
from the window of an old mansion, with
her brown hair waving in glossy masses
around her face!
Suddenly the shouts to the south grow
nearer, and then, emerging from the deeE
hollow, there came an old man, running
at full sr 't1, turning round to fire a rifle,
which he loaded as he ran. He was pur-
sued by a party of ten British soldiers,
who came rushing on, with bayonets fix
ed, as il to strike itheir victim down ere
he advanced ten PAGES nearer the house
On and on thsIold man came, while
his daughter. & with suspense,
hung led from the window. He
reaches one blo2',bQuse gate-look! He
is surr6AndGl lSheir muskets are leyeled
at HIS head, he is down at their feet crap
ping for lis life! But look againl he
dashes aside his foes--with one bold
movement he springs through the gate
an instant and it is locked. The British
soldiers, mad with rage, gaze upon the
logs and stoLe, and vent their anger in
drunken curses.
Now look to yonder window! where
the young girl stood minute ago, quiv-
ering with suspense, as she beheld her
father struggling for his life, now stands
the old man himself, his brow barred, his
hands grasping the rifle, with his gray
hairs waving back from his wrinkled and
blood .sprnkIed face! That was a fine
picture of an old veteran nerved for his
last fght-a stout warrior preparing for
HIS ueatl-SITuSSle'
Death struggle? Yes, for the old man,
Isaac Walpole, had dealt too many hard
blows among the British soldiers--trick-
ed, foiled, cheated them too often to es-
cape now! A few moments longer and
they would be reinforced by a strong
party of refugees. The powder, the arms
in the old block ock-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
a desperate fight.
I'VE must bluff off these rascals!' he
said with grim smile, turning to his
daughter. Now Bess, my girl, when |
fire this rifle, do you hand me another
and so on, till the whole eight shots are
fred--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 for the rest!'
'! Look down there and see hand steal
ing over the edge of the wall. The old
man levels his piece--that British troop
err falls back with crushed hand upon
his comrades heads.
No longer quivering with suspense,
but suddenly grown firm, the young girl
passes loaded rifle to the vetern's grasp,
and silently awaits the result. For mo-
ment all is silent beloM the British
braves are someXks ITO try that