child were equally excited with his own, upon the practicability of releasing Jones from his impending fate.

Though they were unable to suggest a plan of operation, they were determined to watch for the most favorable opportunity, and make the effort. The departure of Jones and several others, (all in irons,) to Savannah, for a trial, under a guard, consisting of a serjeant, corporal, and eight men, was ordered upon the succeeding morning.

Within two miles of Savannah, about thirty yards from the main road, is a spring of fine water, surrounded by a deep and thick underwood, where travellers often halt, to refresh themselves with a cool draught from the pure fountain. Jasper and his companion considered this spot the most favorable for their enterprise. They accordingly passed the guard, and concealed themselves near the spring.

When the enemy came up, the corporal, with his guard of four men, conducted the prisoners to the spring, while the serjeant, with the other four, having grounded their arms near the road, brought up the rear. The prisoners, wearied with their long walk, were permitted to rest themselves on the earth. Two of the corporal's men were ordered to keep guard, and the other two to give the prisoners drink out of their canteens.

The two last approached the spring where our heroes lay concealed, and, resting their muskets against a tree, dipped up water; and, having drunk themselves, turned away, with replenished canteens, to give to the prisoners also. "Now, Newton, is our time!" said Jasper. Then, bursting from their concealment, they snatched up the two muskets that were rested against the tree, and instantly shot down the two soldiers that kept guard.

By this time, the serjeant and corporal, a couple of brave Englishmen, recovering from their panic, had

sprung and seized up the two muskets which had fallen from the slain: but, before they could use them, the Americans, with clubbed guns, levelled, each at the head of his antagonist, the final blow. Then, securing their weapons, they flew between the surviving enemy and their arms, grounded near the road, and compelled them to surrender.

The irons were taken off, and arms put in the hands of those who had been prisoners, and the whole party arrived at Parisburgh, the next morning, and joined the American camp. There are but few instances upon record, where personal exertions, even for self-preservation from certain prospect of death, would have induced a resort to an act so desperate of execution; how much more laudable was this, where the spring to action was roused by the lamentations of a female unknown to the adventurers.

After the gallant defence at Sullivan's Island, Colonel Moultrie's regiment was presented with a stand of colors, by Mrs. Elliot, which she had richly embroidered with her own hands, and, as a reward for Jasper's particular merit, Governor Rutledge presented him with a very handsome sword. During the assault against Savannah, two officers had been killed, and one wounded, endeavoring to plant these colors upon the enemy's parapet of the spring hill redoubt.

Just before the retreat was ordered, Jasper endeavored to replace them upon the works, and, while he was in the act, received a mortal wound, and fell into the ditch. When a retreat was ordered, he recollected the honorable conditions upon which the donor presented the colors to his regiment, and, among the last acts of his life, succeeded in bringing them off.

Major Horry called to see him, soon after the retreat, to whom, it is said, he made the following communication: "I have got my furlough. That sword was presented to me by Governor Rutledge,

for my services in the defence of Fort Moultrie;give it to my father, and tell him I have worn it in honor. If the old man should weep, tell him his son died in the hope of a better life.

"Tell Mrs. Elliot that I lost my life supporting the colors which she presented to our regiment. Should you ever see Jones, his wife, and son, tell them that Jasper is gone, but that the remembrance of that battle, which he fought for them, brought a secret joy into his heart, when it was about to stop its motion forever." He expired a few moments after closing this sentence.

When sickness clouds the languid eye,
And seeds of sharp diseases fly

Swift through the vital frame;
Rich drugs are torn from earth and sea,
And balsam drops from every tree,
To quench the parching flame.

But oh! what opiate can assuage
The throbbing breast's tumultuous rage,
Which mingling passions tear!
What art the wounds of grief can bind,
Or soothe the sick, impatient mind,
Beneath corroding care!

Not all the potent herbs that grow
On purple heath, or mountain's brow,
Can banished peace restore:

In vain, the spring of tears to dry,
For purer air or softer sky,

We quit our native shore.

Friendship, the richest balm that flows,
Was meant to heal our sharpest woes,
But runs not always pure;

And Love-has sorrows of his own,
Which not an herb beneath the moon
Is found of power to cure.

Soft Pity, mild, dejected maid,
With tenderest hand applies her aid
To dry the frequent tear;
But her own griefs, of finer kind,
Too deeply wound the feeling mind
With anguish more severe.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIFTH.

The Dying Warrior.

On the 7th of October, says the Baroness of Reidesel, I expected Generals Burgoyne, Phillips, and Fraser to dine with us. I saw a great movement among the troops: my husband told me, it was merely a reconnoisance; which gave me no concern, as it often happened. I walked out of the house, and met several Indians in their war dresses, with guns in their hands. When I asked them where they were going, they cried out, "War! war!" (meaning that they were going to battle.) This filled me with apprehension, and I had scarcely got home, before I heard reports of cannon and musketry, which grew louder by degrees, till, at last, the noise became excessive.

About 4 o'clock in the afternoon, instead of the guest whom I expected, General Fraser was brought on a litter, mortally wounded. The table, which was already set, was instantly removed, and a bed placed in its stead, for the wounded general. I sat trembling in a corner. The noise grew louder, and the alarm

increased: the thought that my husband might perhaps be brought in, wounded in the same manner, was terrible to me, and distressed me exceedingly. General Fraser said to the surgeon, Tell me if my wound is mortal, do not flatter me. The ball had passed through his body; and, unhappily for the general, he had eaten a very hearty breakfast, by which the stomach was distended, and the ball, as the surgeon said, had passed through it. I heard him often exclaim, with a sigh, “O fatal ambition! Poor General Burgoyne! O my poor wife!"

He was asked, if he had any request to make, to which he replied, that, "If General Burgoyne would permit it, he should like to be buried, at 6 o'clock in the evening, on the top of a mountain, in a redoubt which had been built there." I did not know which way to turn; all the other rooms were full of sick. Towards evening, my husband coming, then I forgot all my sorrows, and thanked God that he was spared to me. He ate in great haste, with me and his aid-decamp, behind the house.

We had been told that we had the advantage of the enemy, but the sorrowful faces I beheld, told a different tale; and, before my husband went away, he took me on one side, and said every thing was going very bad; that I must keep myself in readiness to leave the place, but not mention it to any one. I made the pretence that I would move the next morning into my new house, and had every thing packed up ready.

I spent much of the night in comforting the wife of the wounded general, and then went again to my children, whom I had put to bed. I could not go to sleep, as I had General Fraser, and all the other wounded gentlemen, in my room; and I was sadly afraid my children would awake, and, by their crying, disturb the dying man in his last moments, who often addressed me, and apologized" for the trouble he

me.

gave