Newspaper Page Text
154
shall have the blissful consolation of antici
pating a reunion in Heaven.”
The eye of the dying girl lighted up with a
quick and sudden joy, as she smilingly an
swered,
“It is well, Clarence—l would fain bear
thy name before I die!”
We were startled at this strange request
and answer, but no heart or lip ventured to
oppose it. Lucy then said—
“ Mother, dear mother, deny me not my
last request; will you and Ellen dress me in
rny bridal robe? 1 will wear it to my tomb.”
Clarence also besought Mrs. Mary to grant
this wish, and let him win a bride and moth
er: and she answered —
“As you and Lucy will, but it will be”—
and her heart spoke —“it will be a mournful
bridal.”
Lucy now motioned us from the room, and
we retired. Clarence was the first to speak.
“ You will not blame me that I seek, even
in the arms of death, to make her my wife.
Oh! how much of bliss has been crowded in
to this one anticipation ; and, though it will
be indeed a ‘sad bridal,’ it will sweeten the
cup of bitterness which is now pressed to my
lips.”
In a few minutes, we reentered that hal
lowed chamber. The light of day had faded,
and a single lamp was burning on the stand.
Lucy was arrayed in a muslin robe, which
scarce outrivalled her cheek in whiteness,
save where the deep hectic, now heightened
by excitement, flushed it. Clarence seated
himself by her, and she was raised to a sit
ting posture, and supported in his arms. She
placed her wasted hand in his, and said, half
playfully, half sadly, “’Tis a worthless of
fering, Clarence.”
He pressed it to his fevered lips, his face
pale and flushed by turns. The minister
arose and stood before them, and in few
words and simple, united those two lovely
beings in a tie which all felt must be broken
ere another sun should rise. Yet was that
tie registered and acknowledged in heaven.
As the holy man pronounced them “one
flesh,” and lifted up his hands and his voice
in benediction, Lucy put her feeble arms
around Clarence, and in a low voice mur
mured—
“My husband!”
“ My wife !” responded Clarence, and their
lips met in a long and sweet embrace.
We gave them congratulations through
tears, exchanged the sweet kiss of holy
love and friendship, and left the wedded pair
to a brief realization of bliss, of which we
cannot tell the reader aught.
That night, before the last hour, the angel
Azrael came as a messenger of peace to that
bridal chamber, and though new fountains of
earthly bliss had been opened in the heart of
Lucy Hamilton, she repined not at the sum
mons, but while heavenly joy sat on her fea
tures, and her lips murmured—peace—fare
well, husband—mother—sister—all—her
pure spirit took its flight, and her lifeless body
lay in the ardent embrace of the vo-stricken,
but humble Clarence, who still lingers in this
weary world, doing his Master’s work, and
waiting his Master’s will to be reunited to his
angel-bride in Heaven. W. C. R.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
A REVOLUTIONARY INCIDENT.
/
BY J. M * LEGARE,
Few Carolina families, whose ancestors
were actors in the first war, are unpossessed
of legends transmitted by word of mouth from
generation to generation, which better illus
trate the traits of those stirring times than the
most elaborate history could do, and, for this
reason, are occasionally worthy o| bpqg re
corded. xN Among the many related to me du
ring childhood, one remains vividly stamped
on my memory—the heroine of which was a
great grand-mother, and the scene of action
an estate (Yona,) in Christ Church Parish.
The proper names, however, I have sup
pressed. 11
The Hall at Y’ona, as on most original plan
tations in Carolina, is a dark cypress-built
structure, well furnished with ancient por
traits within, and old mossy oaks dotting the
lawn and skirting the avenue in front, and
supported in the rear by a small village of
out-houses and negro-huts, surrounded by the
usual expanse of cotton and corn-fields. The
above-mentioned lady, although young and
lecentfly married at the date of this incident,
buw little of her husband, who passed his life
§ © ©ir si &(E m &airg && & n ©Assirirs.
with Marion, on horseback, or hidden in the j
depths of swamps. Sometimes Marion and
his troop would reside at \ r ona a few days,
and, close upon their departure, the place
would be occupied by Tarleton with his dra
goons. More than one officer has mounted
his steed from the stone-block, by the steps
yonder, who never put foot in stirrup again:
mo?e than one skirmish has taken place on
the lawn in front, and many a poor fellow has
been stretched out bleeding on the piazza
floor, while the mistress of the house herself
assisted to bind up his wounds. The British
and Tories often threatened, but never mate
rially injured the settlement, as she gave them
no further cause of complaint than that of be
ing the wife of a rebel. To say the truth, it
was only the earnest request of her husband
that prevented her from exhibiting to them, in
a very forcible manner, her indignation. She
was a woman of high spirit, and desired noth
ing so much as to call the negroes into the
house, upon the approach of the marauders,
place arms in their hands, barricade the doors,
and bid the scoundrels begone, or approach at
their peril! When she saw one of these
same men, however, covered with blood and
helpless, brought into the Hall, the woman
triumphed over the patriot, and she hastened
to bind up his wounds in the true Samaritan
spirit.
One day, a nephew of this lady, named
Mikel, brought a letter from her husband,
near by, in Marion’s camp, but whose duties
did not at the moment allow him to leave.
The partizans, while their squadron remained
in the neighborhood, frequently visited their
wives and children in their homes, keeping a
good look-out, meanwhile, lest the Tories
should give the swamp-fox the slip, and steal
upon them unawares; and this was the wel
come news Mikel brought from the master of
Yona to its mistress.
It was yet early in the morning, and they
sat down to breakfast together, yet not before
a trusty negro had been posted a short dis
tance from the house, as a spy on the move
ments of the enemy. Even this they did
rather from habit than otherwise, as no band
of British or Tories had been heard of in the
vicinity for a long while. They had not half
finished their meal, however, when the ad
vantage of a sentry was evinced by the hnr
ried entry of that personage.
“What is the matter?” they asked, for he
was out of breath with running.
“De Tory—da cum, sar!” he ejaculated,
his great eyes wide open with fright; for the
negroes attached to the house-service fre
quently escaped with little more than their
lives, when it was supposed their masters
were concealed, and the secret was attempted
to be wrung from them.
Mikel sprang up instantly. “In which
direction?” he demanded.
“In de abenue, sar —’bout two hundred
yard off.”
He could already hear the gallop of their
horses’ feet. 11 was evident they had watched
him here, or they would not have ventured
thus, without object, into the very jaws of
the lion. One seldom had long to consider
in those days of energy —of life and death.
Mikel ran to the hack door, and leaped on
his horse, which the negro had there ready
for him, while his young aunt went to meet
the troops, who came thundering up to the
steps in front.
“ Where is the rebel ?” they shouted—
“ Where is the and and fox, that we may trim
his ears ?”
“If you are fox-hunting,” she said, “you
will have to find him yourselves, f owe the
foxes no ill will now, since it is only you who
take my poultry.”
She said this with the view of irritating*
them, that they might lose the more time.
“ Since you won’t answer, take that!” cried
one, levelling a pistol. The piece snapped.
“What are you about?” cried another;
“she only wishes to gain time—come on !”
While they spoke, four or five had dis
mounted and ran into the house, with oaths,
thrusting their swords into every suspicious
spot. Scarcely had they done so, however,
when the rest caught sight of Mikel crossing
at full speed a field in the rear, and gave
chase, halloing to those within to follow,
which they presently did.
He had not a start of much more than a
hundred yards, and had about a quarter of a
mile to ride before he could reach the swamp;
his horse, besides, had evidently been jaded
by a recent march, while those of the Tories
were as fresh as if just led out of their stalls.
At starting, they saved much ground by cross
ing diagonally the space Ihe partizan traver
sed in a straight line from the back of the
house.
Since concealment was no longer of any
use, the mistress stood in the back piazza,
and watched the chase with intense interest.
Away they went, across fields and over nu
merous fences; for it was through the Negro
Quarter that they rode, where the land was
much divided, until the fugitive was within
three hundred yards of the swamp and safety,
the leading pursuers not thirty yards behind.
There was one more fence to be cleared close
to the cypresses, and at the instant Mikcl’s
horse rose to the leap, the Tory nearest to him
perceived the game was up, drew a pistol,
fired at twenty-five yards, and the partizan
fell headlong from his saddle, shot through
the head.
The thrilled spectator of this tragedy pressed
her hand over her eyes, when she saw her
nephew fall. But the next instant a clear
bugle-note rang in her ears; and when she
looked up, the Tories had wheeled their hor
ses, which had not even breathed after their
hot run, while close at their heels came Ma
rion and his troopers: across the field, over
the fences again they flew —death behind, life
before!
Not so, either: they only cheated them
selves by believing that life awaited them be
fore. When they reached the lawn, the par
tizans rode among them, pistoling, cutting
down, trampling under foot. Two only of
their whole number escaped by the superior
wind of their steeds, and one of these must
have counted himself fortunate in getting off
with a dangling arm.
Aiken, S. C.
£ctter from a JJljgoician.
For the Southern Literary Gazette.
HOMEOPATHY.
Roswell, Cobb county, Geo. )
August 31, 1848. j
My dear friend: —I reply to your last epis
tle in this public manner, because I believe it
to be the duty of every medical man to tell
the “ laity” somewhat of Homeopathy.
The public are deeply interested in all that
concerns the “divine art.” The relations
which exist between the members of the medi
cal profession and the public, are of such an
intimate nature, that what affects the one has
a corresponding action on the other. You
say truly—“ Physicians in early life, are he
roes, and in old age, an honor to the State.”
We are the ministers of nature; and neither
the contagious atmosphere of our hospitals,
nor the dismal, dark and impure abodes of
vice or misery, will stay the true physician
in heartily responding to the wants of “poor,
houseless, poverty.” It has been said that
“ Grace Darling was not more a heroine, than
the youthful Sidney Bernard a hero, when he
joined the Eclair .” In fact, the public will
not admit our generous self-devotion to the
cause we espouse ; hut insist upon it, that we
possess some charm which effectually protects
us from the ravages of the diseases we are so
constantly exposed to. 1 his non-recognition
of one of the characteristics of our profes
sion, is quite as much to be deplored by the
public as by the profession, inasmuch as it
leads divines, lawyers, and literateurs to rush
in heedlessly, and laud all sorts of quackery
to the skies. Do you not remember the pi ec( >
of aristocratic nonsense Sir E. Bulwer Lytton
gave to the world, not long since, on the sub
ject of “cold water,” as administered by
Preissnilz ? Have you forgotten the insane
ravings of Drs Elliotson and Wilson ? ‘‘You
have been thinking of the distinctions be
tween the ‘regular’ and ‘irregular’ practi
tioners.” Let me tell you some. The “regu
lar” engages to treat disease—the “ quack”
to cure : the “regular” receives pecuniary re
compense for benefits conferred—the “quack”
for what he promises; the “regular” is ever
ready to spend and be spent in doing good
the “quack” never lets charity walk far from
home. I come now to the most important
part of your letter, and 1 will first reply to
your interrogation, “Have you ever seen a
Homeopath administer his remedies by the
sense of smell ?” I never have, but the rea
son is obvious. I, being a “ regular,” and
wishing to bear myself well among my fel
lows, never “go in and out” with the “ir
regulars” of the Hahnemann school; but
that they do so administer remedies is evident
from their writings. I have not the “Orga
non” at hand, or I would select a few curiosi
ties for you. I, however, will call your at
tention to an “ Essay on the Highest Poten
cies,” by Dr. Gross, published in the Homeo
pathic Examiner, (N. S.) vol. 1, pages 42-71.
On page 49, Dr. Gross relates the melancholy
case of his horse, who —not like John Gil
pin’s, of blessed memory refused to go
“ when the sun shone, or when driven out
early in the morning, before he had eaten
anything of consequence, and the rising sun
shone in his face.” But let me give you the
symptoms, my dear Colonel, and you will at
once see the value of the remedy applied.
“ The horse almost stood straight on his hind
legs —the eyelids and muscles of the face
were twitching as in a person affected with
an epileptic fit—the yvhole body was in a
state of convulsive tremor —the breathing was
loud and spasmodic—he reeled as if he had
been intoxicated”—so says Dr. Gross; and at
this critical moment, the learned German tells
us, “ I immediately applied my vial, with
Cocculars of the size of a goose-quill, to
the right nostril of the horse, until he had
taken two inspirations. I then drove on.
Since then no trace of a paroxysm has been
perceived”—(page 50.) On page 51, we are
told of “ a girl who had been suffering seve
ral days with tooth-ache, a rending pain in
the head and face, stitches in the ear, and
profuse salivation. She smelled the 200th
potence of Chamomile; the next day the
symptoms had disappeared entirely.” This
will be sufficient to satisfy you as to the mode
of administering the “essence of infinity.”
“ But are these men honest ?” I tell you no r
they are not. Their practices do not corres
pond with their writings; but, like Romeo's
apothecary, “ their poverty rather than their
will” urges them to their work. There are
two sorts of poverty. I bear no malice, nor
would I aim the shaft of ridicule at the men
tal hallucinations of Hahnemann’s disciples;
hut the following, which may be found on
the 339th page of the Organon, is so fragrant
with transcendental philosophy, that creduli
ty herself blushes. Hahnemann assures us,
that “a single drop of Domera in the 30th
degree of solution, at each of which it had
been shaken twenty times, endangered the
life of an infant who took it for hooping’
cough, whilst one, to which only twelve
shakes had been given at each grade of solu
tion, was sufficient, with a portion of sugar
of the size of a poppy seed, moistened with
it, to produce a prompt and easy cure.” A’
gain—we are told, that a person, endowed
with the greatest sensibility, may take several
grains of gold leaf without experiencing the
least effect; but from the trituration for one
hour of one grain of gold, with 100 grains
of sugar of milk, there results a preparation