Keowee courier. [volume] (Pickens Court House, S.C.) 1849-current, 1859-01-08
VARIETY.
Chaunoey Lewis, the Boy Soldier.

Chauncey Lewis, the Boy Soldier
A boy Of fifteen years ofagc was standing
before the open dor of a Connecticut farm
house with little fowling pieco upon his
shoulder, while matroniy looking woman
was standing in the doorway aud gazing with
mOiScnel eyes upon him.
go, tny son, she said "but remember.
when amid the smoke and heat of battle, the
sentence in the blessed book | have given
you, 1.-The merclul shall obtain mercy"
II will not forget it, mother" he replied,
"but our company is waiting, and now fare
wellw
Good bye, my son'-shc kissed him ms
she spoke-"and may lie who has for two
score years watched over the mother. protect
the son !"
A cloud of smoke hung over and cnyclop-
ed the blood stained soil of Bunkcrs Hill. a
noble looking man, in the uniform of an
American general was slowly retrcatng with
his face to the foe The sharp report of
single rifle was heard and WARREN fell! =
y young soldicr-amost n buy-sprang to-
wards him and lifted his head; at the same
instant giant greuadier in the British uni
tnrm. came charging at him with levcled
bavunet.
To draw an old rusty horse pistol from his
breast, present and fire it. at the approach
ing f'e. was but the work of a moment. The
grenndicr fell wounded, and seizing the
sword of Warren which had fallen from his
grasp, the boy-soldier ran and raised it over
the rcdooat to dispatch him.
But why does he pause when the sword is
uplifted, and allow it to fall slowly to his
side, and then turn away and strike not?
llercmembcrs the injunction of that moth
or, whom two months ago he left in the open
door of the t0rm- house, 'Remember, my son.
amid the smoke and heat of battle, The mer-
ciiul shall obtain Mercy"
The tide of battle had swept like whirl-
wind over the plains of Trenton. The Brit
iSh cavalry had ridden with irresistible force
over detachment of men and boys, forming
portion of the left wing of the American
army and among the dead and dying. lay q
bGysh soldier wounded, and with his right
arm broken.
A mcrcilcSs party of IIessians, were rang
ing over the field numbering and plundering
those who had fallen. They approached the
boy-soldier. who dauntlessly awaited the inn
pending death, and one of them drawing his
sword was about TO plunge into the buys
side, when gigantic relocated grenadicr
rushed between the boy and the murderous
lIeSSiNn and struck up the weapon.
"Ilold, rutfans That boy spared my life
at Bunker Hill. 1t is now my turn" and
raising him in his strong arms, he bore him
lIpul tIlc DlOOuN sui 10 II IllaCc Ol SdletN.
All low those parting words of his moth
or ags;m rang thrnurh his brain and made
sweet music in his soul. Remember my
son, when amid the smoke and heat of battle
that The mcrcitul shall obtain Mercy"
1t was never forgotten, and when little
more than two years ago stood abaye the
venemtcd form and gazed upon the calm fea-
lures of the aged boy-soldier, whose life had
peacefully gonc out like the last fickering of
candle which has burned down i'm it's sock
ct. / thought of those words. and i'm magma
tion could sec the parting of mother and son.
at the old farmhouse eighty-three years ago.
TIE TRUTH BEAUTIFULLY EXPRESSED
THE TRt . LIFE.-Them mere lapse of years
is not life 70 eat, aud drink, and sleep +;
to be exposed to darkness and the light, to
pace around the mill of habit and turn the
wheel of health; to make reason our book
keeper, and turn thoughts into implements
of trade: this is not life. In all this, but
poor fraction of the consciousness of hui
manity is awakened; and the sanctities
still slumber which make it most worth
while to be. knowledge, truth, love, beau
ty, goodJ IS, faith, alone give yitnlity to
the mech; ism of existence the laugh of
mrth which vibrates through the heart
the tears which frcshen the dry wastes
within; the music which brings childhood
back; the prayer that calls the future near;
the doubt which makes us mediate the
death which startles us with mystery; the
hardships that force us to struggle; the anx-
iety that ends in trust-these are the true
nourshment of our natural being
BooTH, the tragedian, had his nose bro.
ken \ lady once said to Aim, 81 like
your acting, but cannot get over your
nose Nc wonder" replied he, she
bridge is gone"
MAN is like snow bali. Leave him ly-
ing in idleness against the sunny fence of
prosperity, and all the good that's in him
lnelts like butter; but kick him around,
and hegathers strength with every reyolu.
ton, until he grows into an avalanche
To succeed you must keep moving