The south-western. [volume] (Shreveport, La.) 1852-1870, 1859-04-06
The Boy Patriota.

ISIS OF 76; but where Is the historian who
tells of the patriotism of the boys of that gloomy
period? Who writes their Biographies?
There were boys in the revolution-boys O
noble patriotism and dauntless slirit-boy.
who would not become traitors, though the
rack and the gibbet confronted them; boys who
toiled with an endurance and holiness une.
qualled in the annals Of nation, for the indie.
pendence Of the "Old Thirteen;" and had they
now just desert. the brightest star in Ameri
cas- constellation, and the widest stripe in her
broad canvass. would be dedicated to the
"boys of '76."
Let us relate an instance: 1t was in the year
l777. Philadelphia was in the hands of Howe
and his inhuman soldiery, while the field oil
Brandywine gave the American people an evil
dence Of British humanity. The inhabitants OF
Pennsylvania and Delaware were at the mercy
| of Their foes Bands of Hessian dragons
secured the vicinity Of Philadelphia for miles
around, and committed acts which would dis
grace Vandal
On one delightful autumn day, group of
boys, ranging in age from twelve to seventeen
| years, were gathered together on The steps OF
a tenantess storehouse in the little yilldge of
Newark, Delaware. The town seemed lonely.
and, with the exception of the youthful band
referred to, not human being met the eye
All the men capable of bearing arms had left
their homes TO join the army of Washington
on the Schuylkill A youth of sixteen years
mounted on a barrel, was giving an account of
the disastrous battle of Brandywine James
Wilson, the narrator, was bold boy, enthusi
astc in his love for the American cause, and
possessed of no little intelligence. His bright
blue eyes and haxen hair gave him an effemi-
nate appearance, but beneath that plain, home
spun acket throbbed a heart which never
qualled IN danger, nor shrunk before any OBJ
stacle. His father was the commander of the
Delaware regular troops, and his mother was
dead. The boy concluded his narration, and
was deeply lamenting that he could not join
the army. Il am not old enough" said he
"but had l musket, would not stand idly
here, with my hands hanging useless by my
side"
care there no guns of any description in the
village?" asked listening youth.
None. have spent nearly week trying
TO find one, but my efforts have been of no
avail. strongly suspect that old tory, Liv-
ingston, has several in his house, but as he
permits no one to trespass on his land, am
unable 70 say positively"
"Why not take party and search his dwell
ing?" asked Frank Howard; ''he has no one to
assist him, except bis eowardly son George
and | can thrash him as easy as that" the boy
snapped his fingers TO imply the readiness with
which he could whip old Lvngston's son.
James Wilson's eyes sparkled with JOY. "If
any three boys in this company will help me-
l will search old Livington's house this night
Al who are willing to go, just step forward
three paces!.'''
Every boy in that little crowd without mo
ment's hesitation, stepped forward.
The boys eyes flashed like stars. Now,
by the dead of Bunker Hill. l will search old
Livingston residence, though death stands in
my path"
With a firm tread. and the utmost silence the
young heroes took up their march for old squire
Livingstons.
Livingston had long been suspected of har-
boring British spies, and some of his former
laborers had reported that he kept up a regular
correspondence with the British commander
At all events, he was generally regarded by
the genuine wings as q dangerous man, and
therefore avoided. His house was situated a
short distance from Whteclay creek on the
side of steep hill, surrounded on all sides by
tall trees. 1t was just such place as one
might suppose suitable for the plotting of
treason.
At the time James Wilson and his little band.
left the deserted storehouse in the village Of
Newark dusk had given place to the darker
shades OF night; still it was not dark The
new moon was shining brightly in the clouds
and every object was perfectly distinguishable.
The boys walked firmly forward, maintaining
a solemn silence. At length they gained the
bank of the creek, and, slowly following the
winding path, soon came in sight of the object
of their destination. As they came TO little
log bridge which crossed shallow rivulet
leading into the Whiteclay, James Wilson or
dered them to halt.
Let Frank Howard and myself reconnoitre
the premises first, TO see whether any danger
may be apprehended. All the rest stand here
until we return. Make no noise, and keep
constant watch"
James and Frank silently departed and were
soon lost to the eye in the thick woods through
which the path ran. Scarcely had they gone
from the viewof their companions ere the quick
ear of Wilson detected noise. Hist" said
he to Frank, as lie pulled him behind gigan-
tic beach tree. The noise soon resolved itself
into human footballs, and in another moment
George Livington, the tory's son, stood oppo-
site the tree. James Wilson darted from his
covert, ndtightly crippled the boy by the neck.
The cowardly youth trembed like reed.
'.Speak one word" whispered his captor,
land I'll toss you into the creekl'
The tory's son was struck dumb with fright
and before he had recovered from his stupor,
found himself in the midst of the whole group
of boy heroes, with the vicelike grip of James
and Frank on either arm.
"Now, - said James, 'answer me promptly I
and truly, or I'll make your position uncomfor-
table Do you hear?"
"Yes, " gasped the afrighted youth.
''Who are in your fathers house at this mo-
ment?"
"I-I-cannot tell" stammered the half
dead boy.
s.You shall tell, Or
"Spare me, and will disclose everything.
When / left the house there was no one there
but our own family and-Maj. Bardstone.
"Who is he?" asked james.
Il don't know don indeedF'
"Tell!" threatened Frank.
'.He is the captain of the Yorkshire dra-