Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1860-06-07
CHAPTER I.

"The sounding aises of the dim woods rang
To the anthem Of the free. .'
Aye, call It holy ground
The soil where first they trod!
They have left unstained what they found,
Freedom to worship God!"
"They that take the s,oord, shall perish 6y tht
sDord."
"BRETHREN AND CoUNTRYMEN: This is a solemn
moment. We have met in this peaceful valley
to invoke Gods blessing. A few short days age
our land rested in the security of peace; our
homes quiet, our hearths happy. From these
green solitudes arose the smoke of our settlers
cabins. The waving fields of grain rejoiced
amidst the waste Of wilderness, and the glad mu.
sic of human voices ascending from happy
hearts, awoke the silence of the forest. The
father looked abroad upon the labor of his hands,
and blessed God for his prosperity. The mother
hushing, in gentle lullaby, her babe upon her
breast in silent gratitude, thanked its maker for
His care. Bold manhood and timid maidenhood
alike, rejoiced in security and rested in peace.
Snow, God of mercy, the change Where once
was peace and plenty, now is famine, desolation
and dismay. Where once was heard the voice Of
Let us worship God,' in prayer and praise, now
is heard the roll of the reveille calling husbands
and fathers to duty; or the beat of the tattoo,
giving the signal for rest to wearied sons and
brothers-the earth for their bed, their KNAPP
sacks for their pillow, and heaven for their cano-
py.
"Oh God, the change The blooming valley,
the waving feld-now, the blood. sodden waste,
the desolate plain. The peaceful homestead,
the thriving village-now, charred ruin, or a
sacked solitude.
"Ask yon whitening bones where is the patri-
arch and father? Ask yon starving woman with
the babe clinging to her withered breast that
can give no sustenance, where the children that
gathered round her knee? where her home and
let the dying mother and the butchered children
answer. Ask yon maniac woman what terror
froze her blood, depriving her soul of reason
and hear her shrek of slain father, butcher
ed mother, of pleading innocence, and, God of
justice, of dishonor worse than death
land who has taken the sword? With the
holy name Of Jehovah upon their lips, invoking
the Redeemer, the prince Of peace to their aid,
the country that We call mother They have
ruthlessly invaded our land, glorying in our DESC
lation. They have taken the sword and shall
perish by it.
"And believe me, brethren, the doom of the
British is near. Might and wrong now prevail,
and the cloud now enshrouds US but gathering
thick and fast, see the darker cloud and black
er storm of divine vengeance, which will assured
ly burst in terrible fury upon our inhuman foes.
My friends, need not urge you to action by
recalling CALLING memories and grievous wrongs.
know you are strong in the might of the Lord,
though the solemn duty of ayenging the dead
rest heavy on your souls.
'They that take the sword shall perish by the
sword" You have taken it, but not in the spirit
of wrong or revenge; but for your homes and
your fresides, your wives and your little ones,
your altars and your freedom and remember,
God is with you. He makes holy cause his
own. God the terrible, mighty in battle, fights
for you, and you aOU triumph. Let us pray.
"Father, we bow before thee, we invoke thy
blessing, we deprecste thy wrath, we return thee
thanks for the past ask thy aid for the future.
We are in trouble; Lord deliver US. We are
in need; Lord help US. We arc in affiiction
Lord comfort US. We are dismayed; Lord
prosper u.s. Teach us to be patient; teach us to
be merciful In the hour of defeat, let us hope
in thee; in the hour of triumph, let US glorify
thee; and in the hour of death, let US come of
more than conquerers, through Christ, who has
loved us. And may our cause be blest by the
love of God the Father by the comfort of Chris,
the Son, and by the guidance of the Holy Spirit
now and forever. Amen"
1t was quiet Sabbath evening of Sep
tember, 1880; the scene eminently pictures
que. Near the confines of York District
South Carolina, some miles distant from g
rugged hill called Kings Mountain, nes
tied a quiet country church. The house,
built of logs, was simple and unpreteudiug
but poets pen or an artists fancy, could
not have pictured spot of more Sabbath,
like repose.
a forest of primeval oaks shaded its low.
ly roof, through whose giant limbs the sun
shone in gentle light upon the virgin moss
which carpeted the foot-paths around
From the rustic porch, grassy lawn sloped
down to the waters of Allison's Creek,
which was now clad in all the rich luxuri-
ance of the South in its balmiest summer.
The music Of the running water, with its
hymn-like tones, the groves Of such quiet
shade and luxuriance, hevarying tints of a
glorious Indian summer sunset, made a
picture of holy beauty, fit cathedral for
worshipping patriots.
Far away, the Blue Ridge reared its
cloud-capped SUBMITS, piercing their point,
ed spires far into ether Like nesting hills,
Kings Mountain Crag, in North Carolina,
lifted its clear blue crest, and nearer yet,
Browns Mountain and Henry Knob, with
their crowns of royal purple, stood out in
bold relief. The congregation was large for
the times, assembled at the call of runner,
for in that chequered period, it was not al
ways safe to assemble even for worship. 1t
consisted almost entirely of men rude and
weather beaten; but here and there, mus.
cular form of erect bearing, would indicate
the soldier, even without the Continental
blue and bluff. The most of them were clad
in the hunting shirt of the mountaineers,
and few with the accompanying hunting
knife. Others were in the plain home-spuu
dress of the time, while perhaps solitary
suit of broad cloth would indicate landed
proprietor who, from wariness or one side
neutrality, had preserved his domains.
The mountain is the birth place of liber
ty,' said Washington :and here these hardy
sons of toll had met under the shelter of
their sanctuary, to be embloldened and en-
couraged by servant Of the God of battles,
to strike one more blow for freedom.
CHAPTER II.
L. 80