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GOULD & ELWE,
BY ‘LL,
Office 80 Middle, near Corner of Exchange St.
ortland
One Dollar for Eight Months, in sdvance ’
ver ‘
TERMS: $150 PER YEAR 2
AN INDEPENDENT FAMILY JOURNAL OF LITBRATURE, NEWS, Se.
VOLUME XV.
PORTLAND, SATURD
AY, NOVEMBER 22,1851.
° NUMBER 382. °
| POETRY.
Written for the Transeript.
INDIAN SUMMER,
A SONNET—TO FANNY,
A summer breeze blows cheerly o'er the plain,
Though antuma leaves are whirling in the air,
And, gilding all the scene with radiance fair,
A smite of summer comes to us
From the bright west,—where tinged with glowing red,
More large and round than e’er in suinmer days,
Sinks slowly through the dim and purple haze,
Love-siek Apollo to his saffron bed.
A smoky radiance lights the pleasant sce ne,
And sends a mystic feeling to my heart,
‘Which rather peace than sadness doth impart,—
Which whispers to me, NT FORGOT,
Even though I fancy, dear, thou Jov’st ine not,
A
THE DOOM .
THE TORY'S GUARD,
BY N. M, CURTIS.
CMAPTER XI.—CONTINUED.
In the afternoon, he was visited by the priest of
the settlement, who came to administer to the pris-
oner, the spiritual comforts of the gospel. The
worthy individual was himself a tory, and talked
to Mervale for a long time, upon the horror of trea-
son, and the unpardonable sin of rebelling against
the government of the Lord’s anointed.’ . Matters
assumed tg Mervale, a more serious aspect than
they had yet scemed to wear, When the preacher
announced his errand,’ it seemed to bring death
and himself in frightful proximity. There was
something inexpressibly chilling to his feclings in
coldly setting about making preparations for his
final departure. Tle knew the preparation’ for- so
important an event was highly necessary, but des-
pite all his efforts, he could not bring his mind to
think calmly upon the subject. The worthy divine
left him, expressing his fears that his latter end
would be worse than the first.
Early the next morning, Van Loan was in the
settlement, busily making preparation for the ex-
ecution, which was appointed to take place early
in the evening, just after the setting of the sun.
Ilow he came to designate this unusual hour, as
the time for the unhallowed. sacrifice he intended
to make he could not tell; yet he could not bring
himself to perpetrate the diabolical deed with God's
fair sun a witness to the transactions, Ie “loved
darkness rather than light,” and it was undoubtedly,
because his “deeds were evil.”
‘The Tory’s Guard were undcr arms, and stood
in groups around the inn and the spot where the
laborers were erecting a gallows. The spot select-
cd for the execution, was just outside the compact
portion of the settlement, on the side of a little
hill, that gently rose from the banks of a small
streamlet. The top of this emincnce was covered
with a growth of heavy forest trees, which in fact
stretched away for many a mile to the south. Be-
low the summit ail was cleared to the banks of the
ae whigs were also mingled with varions to-
ry groups, and they were casily to be distinguished
from the friends of the king, for they looked gloo-
my and discontented, and talked in whispers, whilst
their opponents seemed to regard it as a gala day
—one that every good loyalist ought to respect.
The whigs were unarmed to all appearances, yet
any one at* all acquainted with human passions,
would have told readily, that they were prepared
for some undertaking which willed no good to
their opposers.
‘A rough, ill-constructed gallows was declared to
be in a state of readiness, a little past noon. Some
twenty of the Tory’s Guard, were stationed around
it, immediately on completion, to prevent its des-
traction by the whigs, who openly threatened it.
The remainder of Van Loan’s troop, were station-
ed around the inn, where Mervale was confined.
Slowly to the expectant tories, but quickly to
Mervale, did the day wear away. Ilis_ mind was
to concert any congruous plan, for he ‘still deter-
mined to die by other process than hanging. . He
was fully determined that at least one tory should
pay for his life, and he determined that if such a
thing could be brought about, that one should be
Van Loan
An hour before the setting of the sun, one of,
his captors entered his room, and bid him prepare
to march immediately to the place of execution.
Mervale obeyed, and when he emerged from the
inn, the armed tories filed into a square, leaving
him in the centre, and then Ied by Van Loan, bent
their steps slowly to the little hill, upon which the
gallows was erected. A large concourse had col-
lected here to witness the approach of the condemn-
cd. A passage was cleared by the guards on the
arrival of the prisoner,.and in a short time after
the prisoner was seated on the gallows.
IAPTER XT
Jacob Dash and ‘he Schoharie’ settlers pushed
on towards the station with alacrity.’ The anxiety
of Jacob was so great for. the fate of his friend,
‘hat he was constantly a few rods in advance of his
comrades. They made such diligent use of their
limbs, that just at night, on the day after Mervale
had been sentenced they came to a hait in a dark
and almost impenetrable ravine, about half a mile
below the summit of the hill upon which the gal-
lows was erected. And the whigs were cautiously
seercted, and Jacob immediately despatched some
of the Schoharie settlers, who divested themselves
ef their arms for that purpose, to visit the Station,
in order to ascertain the fate of Reginald. Jacob
himself dared not venture, for he well knew that
some of the settlers, more especially those who at-
tended Van Loan’s feast were personally acquaint-
ed with him. . The spies accordingly departed and
mingled with the settlers without creating suspi-
cion. Indeed, they were all too.much absorbed in
the scenes enacting around them to heed aught
clso; if the strangers were regarded at all, they
were taken for inhabitants of the neighboring
country, who had been drawn to the Station to wit-
ness the trial and execution of Mervale. They
soon gained all the intelligence desirable, and care-
lessly one by one they departed in the direction of
their ambush.
Jacob rejoiced exceedingly when he learned
Mervale was yet unharmed. IIe had no fears for
the rest, “for,” said he “the tories are’ good for
nothin’’cept stealin’, and a man that'll steal aint
no fightin’ character any way.” The whig band
retired for repose, as anxions for the hour of exe-
cntion to arrive as Van Loan himself could possi-
bly be.
‘The spies were again sent out early on the mom-
ing of the day on which the execution was to take
place... They mingled with the crowd, and saw
Mervale, when he was led out from the inn, yet
they took care to keep themselves from his obsery-
ation, lest a look, of an exclamation of surprise
from him, should destroy their calculations, When
the eavaleade started for the gallows, they cautious-
ly detatched themselves from the multitude, and
once again sought their comrades. No time was
to be lost, a moment might be sufficient to thwart
their intentions, and Jacob formed his men in order
and marched from the ravine towards the little hill.
Just as Mervale mounted the scaffold, they came
in view ot the machine of death, and halted in
such a position as would, in all probability, owing
to the intense interest in the execution, shelter
them from observation... After his men were cov-
ered, Jacob marched boldly up to the crowd, push-
ed his way through the guard, and mounting the
steps, stood in the next moment upon the scaffold
in front of Van Loan. Mervale uttered an excla-
mation of surprise, but if an apparition from the
world of spirits, had stared him full in the face,
‘an Loan could not have been more completely
thunderstruck. Many of the tories knew Jacob
Dash, some of them materially to their cost, and a
suppressed whisper of his name ran round the
crowd. The tories looked fierce and awaited or-
ders from Van Loan, whilst a look of satisfaction
was plain to be seen upon the countenances of the
whigs, who crowded as near to the scaffold as they
possibly could, “What are you going to do, rep-
robate ?” said Jacob bringing his heavy rifle down
in so perturbod a state that he found it impossible
upon the scaffold with a force that caused Van
4
Loan to start, and tarn pale; “what do you mean
to do? have you forgotten Jacob Dash so soon?”
“I have not forgotten you, as you will find to
your cost,” said Van Loan, after he had somewhat
recovered from the shock he had received from the
“At present we
are going to administer justice to a condemned
criminal, and after that we will attend to your case.”
“You administer justice ¢” cried Jacob furiously,
shaking his fist in Van Loan’s face; “you talk
about justice; you skimmings of the devil’s wick-
edness! D—n me, if I haint a mind to string you
upon this very frame, you miscrable devil that you
are.”
unlooked for presence of Jacob.
Alond shout from the whigs in the crowd at-
tested their satisfaction at seeing the haughty ty-
rant thus confronted. ‘ Van Loan was enraged be-
yond bounds, and he shouted,
“Seize the villain—”
“So I will,” interrupted Jacob, at the same time
depositing his rifle on the scaffold, and seizing Van
Loan by the throat, “So I will seize the villain, for
may I be cursed, if you ain’t the man if they’s any
such a one present.” : At the same time Jacob. in-
flicted several severe blows upon his face; then
taking him with one hand by the deg, and with the
other remaining upon his throat, he heaved him
from the scaffold into the crowd below. Drawing
his knife from his belt, he cut the cords which bound
Mervale, and handing him the weapon, he said,
“Defend yourself my lad; d—n me, but we'll
expalify the whole bilin’ on ’em."
Seeing their leader assaulted in this unceremo-
nious manner, several of the Tory’s Guard rushed
toward the scaffold, but they were intercepted by
the little knot of whigs, who had taken post imme-
diately in front of it. A warm scufile here ensued,
but the whigs, few in number, were compelled to
give way, and abouta dozen rushed up the steps to
secare Jacob. The frail platform could ‘not sus-
tain the accumulated weight of all, and with a
loud crash it came to the ground. In a moment
after, Jacob uttered a loud yell, and the whigs
came pouring down the hill from the ambush.
“Come on!” shouted Jacob, as he saw his troops
issue from the forest, “Come on my lads, the vic-
tory is ours !”
The women and children in: the crowd ran
screaming in all directions, the unarmed whigs of
the settlement uttering a shout, scattered in every
direction to arm themselves as they best might,
and all together the scene was: one of confusion.
“Fire upon the pirates !” shouted Van Loan,’ who
had regained his feet, and was in a terrible rage.
A part of his tories instantly formed, and dischar-
ged a volley at the whigs, two of whom fell to rise
no more,
“Pepper em!” d—n ’em! pepper ‘em !” shouted
Jacob in a towering passion. The whigs obeyed,
and in an instant a sharp volley was discharged at
their opponents, who seeing several in the ranks
sink to the earth, turned and fled in the direction
of the village inn, pursued by Jacob and the whigs.
At the door of the inn, another struggle ensued,
the whigs were completely infuriated, and the to-
ries began to exhibit symptoms of terror.. They
succeeded at last in éntering the inn, and securing
the door, In an instant, loud cries of “down with
the house !” issued from a dozen throats; and in a
brief space, the work of destruction commenced.
Fragments of the doomed building soon strewed
the ground in every direction, and at length the
tories were seen issuing from the door in the rear.
The whigs started in pursuit, but as the tories ran
for dear life, they outstripped their pursuers, who
returned and continued the destruction of the inn.
In less than one hour it was levelled to the ground,
and a loud shout announced the satisfaction of the
whigs. .
‘The whigs resolved to remain in the village thro’
the night, and this announcement was reccived joy-
fully by those settlers who remained friendly to the
colonial cause,and they immediately sct about mak-
ing preparations for their entertainment., Many of
the Schoharians, smarting under the recent outra-
ges of Butler, were desirous of continuing the work
of demolition and destruction, but Jacob said uo—
“Don’t let’s be brutes because the tories is, it arn’t
manly atall.”. Jacob carried his point, and shortly
after, himself and comrades ‘were safely quartered
in the honses of their whig brethren, and were soon
enjoying those creature , comforts 80 essential to as
all, and more especially to the soldier. |
The tories remained shaking in the woods all
night, not daring to retarn to their homes for fear of
the whigs. Indecd, they expected that their prop-
erty would be entirely destroyed, as this was the
style of warfare introduced by themselves, and fol-
lowed up by their partisans whenever an opportun-
ity occurred. They were disappointed in this, for
Jacob and Mervale, although warm partisans, were
neither of them of that cast of mind that delights ia
a wanton destruction of life and property. They
would not hesitate to use all honorable means to ad-
vance the success of their cause, and they believed
that deeds of rates violence injured the respecta-
bility of any set of m
In the morning, the "bodies of, those killed in the
affray were decently interred, and. the rangers, ac-
companied by Mervale, departed on their retarn to
Schoharie. When they arrived there, Mervale re-
ceived the congratulation of all on his providential
escape ; but from Jacob be received a long, charac-
teristic lecture, on the “nonsense,”. as he termed it,
of such a reckless expedition as he had started up-
on on the day of his capture. Jacob Dash and Mer- .
vale remained but a few days in the village of Scho-
harie, when they determined to seck head-quarters,
as Albany was called at that time. Bidding adieu
to their warm friends in Schoharie, they according:
ly started, accompanied by the men from Cherry
valley. In two days after they reached Schenecta-
dy, where Mervale intended to remain a short time,
but Jacob and his rangers proceeded at once to Aly
bany. In about a week Jacob returned, and him-
self and Mervale proceeded at once to’ Boston to
join the army of Washington.
HAPTER XIII.
On the day afer her arrival at tho asylam of doe:
tor Morton, Alice was visited in’ her room by ¢
course featured female assistant of the doctor's,bear-
ing in her arms a course striped dress, which she
commanded her to put on, in the place of the one
she then wore. She was forced to comply, and the
assistant left her to pursue her own amusement, if
such could be found within the rough, cold walls
of an asylum cell. She could not even bring hers,
self to view her truly deplorable situation with any
thing like patience or resignation. Shut out entire-’
ly from the world, destitate of a companion, or ev-,
ena book, she was compelled to pass away the te-:
dions hours in perfect idleness, the most irksome
situation that ean well be imagined,for one so young’
and naturally of so lively a disposition as Alice —>
Work was refused her, and to all her entreatics for,
a walk, or a view of the earth and sky’ without her
dreary cell, the before mentioned assistant turned a
deafear. She very rarcly saw the doctor. That:
worthy conferred the responsibility of the female;
department of. his institution upon the assistant,
who was the female above described.
In this irksome manner, the summer wore away,
and the winter came. . With the advent of winter”
came a new suffering for her to endure. She was.
not allowed a supply of fuel necessary to keep up a?
proper warmth in her apartment. Her sufferings *
were severe, and she often complained to female at- ,
tendants, but always in vain, for she was not heed-
ed. Spring, bright, balmy spring, came again, and °
still Alice was confined to her apartment. Since her '
arrival in the hated place, she had notseen the blue °
sky or the green fields, as her apartment contained
no window, all the light that she received being ad- «
mitted through the grating of her door, from a nate |
tow passage way just in front. How she longed for’ ,
the open air! how she wished to hear once again ;
the sweet song of the binds, and see the green fields »
and the glancing stream:
One lovely afternoon, tom ards the close of May,”
a stranger arrived in the little village in which doc- 1
tor Morton resided, and put up for the night at the 2
only inn of which the village boasted. Ho was a
middle aged man, with a fine intellectual counte- *
nance, and with a carriage and bearing that denot- |
ed great benevolence, He was well dressed, quite 3
talkative, and from his discourse was evidently a”
man of good education and information, After or- ©
dering some refreshments, of which he partook, he
enquired of the landlord if the village contained
any’ nything of note, as he felt an t inclination to take a. {
We have nothing here, sir,” replied the land-
