The Somerset press. [volume] (Somerset, Ohio) 1873-1977, 1874-11-13
SELECT STORY.
A HERO WOMAN.

fabric, built of mingled logs and stone,
and inclosed by palisade wall. 1t had
been erected in the early days of VIII
liam Penn--perhaps some years before
the great apostle Of peace first trod our
shores-as a block-house first intended
for defense against the Indians.
And now it stood with its numerous
chimneys, its massive square windows,
its varied front of logs and stone, its
encircling wall, through which admit
tance was gained by large and stoutly
built gate; 1t stood in the midst of the
wood, with age-worn trees ercircling Its
veteran outlines on every side.
! From its eastern windows you might
obtain a glimpse of the Schuylkill, while
large easement in the southern front
commanded a view of the winding road
as it sunk out of view, under the shade
of those thickIy clustered boughs, into
deep hollow, not more than hundred
yards from the mansion.
Here from the southern easement, on
one OF LnO5e Ddlhy uayS "hENA AOOn >--
upon the dreary autumn, toward the
close of November, a farmers daughter
was gazing with dilated eyes and half
clasped hands.
Well might she gaze earnestly to the
south and listen with painful intensity
to the slight sound! Her brothers were
Al of yVaShTnotnn and
her father grim old veteran-he stood
six feet and three inches in his stockings
who had manifested his hate for the
red coat invaders in many desperate
contest, had that morning left her alone
in this small chamber, in charge of some
ammunition intended for a band of brave
farmers about to join the host of free
dom.
Even as she stood there gazing out of
the south window, faint glimpse of
sunlight from the faded leaves above
pouring over her mild face, shaded by
clustering brown hair, not ten PAGES from
her side we're seven loaded rifles and
keg Of powder.
Leaning from the easement, she lis
tened with every nerve quivering with
suspense to the shouts of combatants the
hurried tread of armed men echoing
| from the south.
There was something very beautiful
| in that picture. The form of the young
girl framed by the square massive win
dow, the contrast between the rough
timbers that inclosed her, and that
I rounded face, the lips parting, the hazel
eye dilating, and the cheeks warming
with hope and fear, there was something
very beautiful in that picture-a young
girl leaning from the window, ofan old
mansion, with her brown hair waving
in glossy masses around her face.
Suddenly the shouts to the south
grew nearer, and then emerging from
the deep hollow, there come an old man
running at full speed, yet every few
minutes turning to fire his rife, which
he loaded as he ran.
He was pursued by party of ten
British soldiers who came rushing on,
their bayonets fixed, as if to strike
/ there victim ere he advanced ten steps
nearer the house.
On and on the old man came, while his
daughter, quivering with suspense, hung
leaning from the window, he reached
the block k-house-look! He is surround
ed, their muskets are leveled at his head, 4,
he is down at their feet graphing for
life.
But look again. He dashes his foes
aside, and with one bold movement he
springs through the gate; an instant, and
it is locked; the British soldiers, mad
with rage, gazed upon the high wall Of
logs and stone, and vent their anger in
drunken curses.
Now look to yonder window where the
young girl stood a moment ago, with
suspense as she beheld her father strug-
Cling for his life, his brow barred, his
arms grasping the rife, while his gray
hairs wave back from his wrinkled and
blood -dabbled face. That was fine fig
ure of an old veteran, nerved for his last
| fight; stout warrior preparing for his
death-struggle!
Death struggle? Yes; for the old man
Isaac Wampole, has dealt too many
hard blows among the British soldiers,
tricked, foiled and cheated them too Of
ten to escape now.
A few minutes longer and they would
be reinforced by large party of refu-
gees The powder and arms in the old
block-house, perhaps his daughter her
self, was to be their reward.
There was scarcely hope for the old
man, and yet he was determined to make
, desperate fight.
I'VE must bluff these rascals' he said
with smile, turning to his child.
Now, Bess, girl, when fire this rifle
you hand me another, and 80 on until
the whole eight shots are fired! That
will keep them on the other side of the
9 wall for a few minutes at least, and ther
: we will have to trust in God for the
8 restp
Look down there and see hand steal
: ing over the wall. The old man leveleC
: his piece-that British trooper fall
9 back with a crushed hand upon his com
: rades' heads.
No longer quivering with suspense
: but suddenly growing firm, the yount
girl passes loaded rife to the veteran
grasp, and silently awaits the result.
For a moment all is silent below, tn,
: British braves are somewhat 10th to tr,
that wall when stout old REBEL riff
in hand, is looking from yonder window
s There is a pause-low, deep murmurs-
s they are holding council.
A moment is gone. and nine heads ar
t thrust above the wall at once-hark!-
g -one-two-three! The old veteral
:, has fred three shots, three groveling il
II the ward. beneath the shadow of the wal