The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1860-12-20
Alr ynterestina storg.
g Y@Uma BRBgA.
A Tale of the Carolinas.

father appeared troubled; at times he
looked thoughtfully on the floor, and then
he would gaze long and -wistfhlly at his
son, fine, manly youth of twenty. At
length he said:
isDavid, this is disastrous news from
Camden. God knows what Will become
Of the country now! Congress needs ev-
cry arm that is capable. All, me! | wish
this old wound 1 got in the French war
had not lamed me; but for it, / should be
now shouldering my musket and march
ing to defend my country"
3 Both the son and wife looked up at
these words The old lady ceased knit
ting and gazed inquiringly at her boy,
and it was evident, from the expression
of her face. that patriotism and mothcrly
affection were at variance in her bosom.
The son, however, after encounter
ing his fathers eye for moment, turned
confusedly away The old mans brow
darkened, and he said warmly:
- .sDavid, David. why do you lingcr
about the village when your country
needs your services so much? Why, son,
I am ashamed of you! Twice before this
have I spoken to you upon this subject,
bat you appear to have no spirit What! !
will, you see. us trampled upon by the
brutal mercenaries of Britain, and still
lie here supinely! Fer shame, David
for shame! Twill not cell you my son
Long since You ought to have been in
the army"
Joshua interposed the old mother,
aDayid is but youth; then do not speak
to him SO karshly. Eo cannot yet feel
what you feel, who tavc fought so often
against our co1ntry's enemies; Joshua,
he is. but boy"
essA boy, Indeed, Deborah! Such boys
as David have already gained imperisha-
bis 1aurels since the war commenced. L
could name a-host of them. Why, wore
it not for the boys of the land, where
would be our armyy-which, I dare say,
is5:..c 7sd.,. Ter conoseA con.pose Of boys Of lss-
vid'sz age The old man was excited,
end it was the unlkind word that he
had ever used to his boy. m
David arose and left the house. He
walked some distance apparently in deep
thought. a
: .aWhat will not woman do?" he at last
1nuttered. "Ecre I lave been lingering
about the village when should have
been off long ago. Andwhat for9 Why,
to meet Q. pretty girl, and to listen to her
musical voice. But iow, I will be my
self again! What did he call me-was it
not corarde Now, by heaven! LSwill
learrn him that he has son who posses
ses the spirit of his father. Away, then,
with love; for feel that 1 am called'up-
ON to act, and no longer dream! Ere
fortnight, my father shall hear of me- or
else.I lose my life in striving for it."
And with this resolution he turned about
and retraeed his steps. - <.S
When he reached home he sought the
stables, saddled his horse, and mounting
him struck into gailop, which continued
for several miles. AT length he stopped
and looked up at the windows OLA farrn-
house, half hid between clustering trees.
This was the residence of Mary Bunker
the mistress Of his heart; the lights show
ed that the family had not retired, and he
resolved to pay her a visit before his de-
parturer She was alone when he entered,
and few words acquainted her with his
determination. She burst into tears.
Nay. Mary" he said, 'you must not
unman me. At first / resolved to leave
YOU without farewell, for I knew how
much you dreaded my taking an active
part in this struggle. But l could not be
SO cruel as to desert you without word"
will compose myself" said the fair
girl, with an effort to smile. II know I
have been wrong to persuade you to stay;
but you cannot imagine the anxiety I suf
fer on. account of my brothers, and could
not. bear to have you too encounter their
danger. !. But since this dreadful defeat
at Camden, feel that every man is want
ed by, our country Go, then, dearest,
and God be with you. My prayers shall
attend you night and day"
David pressed the now weeping girl to
his bosom, snatohed hasty kiss at the
sound Of approaching footsteps, wrung
her hand, and was gone.
,.sH,ha nayt day he left the neirhhOrhOQd