Spirit of the age. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1849-1865, 1858-03-10
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YaAisI' 9tgartmtnt,
JESSIE BROWN.

Arthurs Home MagaZlhe'
Every woman has, or ought to have ta-
ken n peculiar interest in the East India
war. that fearful tragedy of the Summer of
eighteen hundred and ffty-seyen, for wo-
mar has here borne a part, and occupied q
position not often occupied among the ma
tons Of the earth aye, and the great rally
ing cry of this battle has been the pame
and honor of sOomGn!
When the tidings of an insurrection
among the Sepoys of India first reached US
last summer, nobody felt any especial in
terest or sympathy with either party /; nay,
it might have been that what existed of
these was partially with the insurgents for
this revolt was felt by many to be the n
sing of the oppressed against the oppressors,
the long delayed retaliation of a people who
had borne what the weak usually have to
bear from the strong, and whom long years
Of unjust taxation and petty %tyrannies had
at last goaded to rebellion.
But q little later there rose a cry from
that far OF land, seated in It's wondrous
tropical beauty On the blue waters Of the
Indian ocean ; q cry that smote the heart
Of C~hrntendom q. the heart Of q single
man. (.
No wonder there was a swift arming in
mobiles hall and by peasants hearthstone,
for the means Of murdered women and the
cries OF slaughtered children, came piteous-
" across the Summer waters, and reused
All the old Teutonic chivalry in the heart
Of the nation, and throughout the land strong
men with blanehed faces lifted their hands
and swore TO ayenge the wrongs Of woman,
in the name of the God of battles!
oh. it is this reverence for woman thai
shines n bright and steady light over all,
the darkness and barbarism of the early
Teutonic race it is this that, next to the
Bible, has placed the Saxon nation 30 far
above all the nations of the earth, the
brightest stars Of all her star of strength
and glory.
But through all the sickening and revolt
ting details Of this war the newspapers have
given us pictures Of scenes, which for trag-
ical power and living pathos, surpass the
history Of any wal the earth has ever wit
messed. What painter ever conceived Of q
scene ike the one where the band Of sol
diers clustered around the body of the muir
dsred girl, and each reverently r~eceiying
one Of the tresses that had crowned her
young head in life and innocence, bent will
haggard brovs and fiery eyes over thei
fearful task Of counting the hairs therein
before they all lifted their hands and swor
that for every one Of these another lif
should make recompense.
oh, English maiden girl! terrible as wa
thy fate in the fair land of thy father
adoption, surely thou vast avenged, and
may be from the grave made by thy fol
murderers, thy voice, could it speak, woul
come back sohly to us,
I'm the midst of wrath, remember mercy
Who, too, has not read the letter of tn
lady Of Lucknow. We pity the man
the wonIap who could do it With d-Ha-
How simple she tells her story, that, f
tragical interest and heroic patience, hi
never, in all the annals of ancient or mo,
crn history, been surpassed. Here, in Il
heart Of this practical nineteenth centur
was enacted = drama, whose scenes of te
ror, despair, and final deliverance, exceed,
all that it ever entered into the heart
genius to conceive of. The days of Il
Caesars, the wars of the Crusaders, nev
furnished a tragedy like this. Just THU
Of it, These helpless women had been il
prisoned for months, in the Residency
Lucknow, with only that little band Of bra
men to stand between them and q death
terrible that imagination turns away sic
ened and appalled, at the thought; but o
can we'll conceive how that " unutteral
horror" at Cawnpore, only q few mi
distant, haunted them by nightand by d.
seemingly a frghtful prophecy of the fl
that awaited them. Their foes, "ffty the
sand against a few hundred" were pressi
closer and cloScr-foes who carried benes
thefaces ofmen hearts before which itsee
ed fends must shrink abashed.
Yet how calmly writes that brave Ia
from Lucknow I'VE were fully penuad
that in twcnty-four hours all would be ov
The engineers had said so, and all KIN
the worst. We women strove to enco
age each other, and to perform the Iii
duties which had been assigned to US, 81
as conveying orders to the bstteries,
supplying the men with provisions, we !
formed day and night"
She had gone out to render some off
of this kind with Jessie Brown" the
Of a corporal in her husbands regiment
Worn out with fatigue and that haunt
terror of the 10 come, the two women S
upon the ground.
Poor Jessie wrapped her Scotch p
about her and laid her head in the mistr
lap. "A constant fever consumed
and she had fallen away viSibly for the
few days." while her thoughts continr
wandered away to the purple hills
green valleys Of her Scotch home.
touching are those words al promis,
awaken her when, as she said, her fs
should return from the ploughing p
the poor Scotch woman sank to her s
under those burning midnight skies,
dreams Of her cool, native heather, al
the peaceful cottage Threshold wher,
watched for her fathers coming at n
fall.
Her companion, too, sank into atror
slumber, though the cannon was roi
near her, for the brave little band on
batteries, though all hope had now fors
them, had resolved only to yield with
lives.
Suddenly a wild unearthly scream s.
through the lady's slumber. She OF
her eyes, and there stood Jessie b
her figure upright, and her white, aha