Newspapers / The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, … / Oct. 4, 1876, edition 1 / Page 1
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VOLUME IL OXFORD, the PAXCADISE OF TEAKS. Beside the River of Tears, with branches low, And bitter leaves, the weeping willows grow; The branches stream like the dishevelled hair Of woman in the sadness of despair. Then comes a child, whose face is like the sun, And dips the gloomy waters as they run, And waters all the region, and behold, The ground is bright with blossoms manifold. Where fall the tears of love the rose appears, And where the ground is bright with friend ship’s tears. Forget-me-nots and violets, heavenly blue. Spring, glittering with the cheerful drops like dew. The souls of mourners, all whose tears are dried. Like swans, come gently floating down the tide, Walk up the golden sands, by which it flows, And in the Paradise of Tears repose. There every heart rejoins its kindred heart; There, in a long embrace that none may part, Fulfilment meets desire; and that fair shore Beholds it dwellers happy evermore. —^WilUatn Cullen Bryant. liADY IIAKKIET ACKLAIVD. Lady Harnet Ackland has al ways been numbered among the most celebrated women of the American lievolution. Her name is associated with all that is pure, heroic, lovely and of “good report,” and tbougli a foreigner by birth and education, and ilie wife of one of America’s toes, she is no uinvortliy sui'ject for an American woman’s pen. lleautirul, accomplisiied, brought up amidst all tlie refiiicments and lii.xuries of a iiul.de l‘l;igli.sb home, .she gladly left home, kindred and comury to follow the fortunes of her luisbaiid, ilajor Ackbuul, when bo was ordered with his regiment to America in the war beuvte;i Lngland and her colo nies. She accompanied liim to Canada in 1770, and ti e next year sue was with him, or rather near him, during Burgo}’iie’s dis astrous campaign, ending in bis defeat at Saratoga. She male the journey from Montreal gen erally ill a little two-wheeled tumbrel, over almost impassable roads, in constant danger of be ing overturned or left behind b}’ the exhausted condition of her liorse. One night, wliile the army was encamped in its ad vance on Fort Edward, the tent in which she was sleeping was suddenly wrapped in flames. Their pet Newfoundland dog, who had followed them from home and was the companion of their fortunes, upset the light. The Major and his wife were saved witli difficult}’, losing many necessary as well as valuable things in the burning tent. In the battle of the 4th of October, Major Ackland commanded the Grenadiers, and was in the most exposed part of the field. His wife, with Madame de lieidesel and the wives of several other officers, was at a farm-house close by the scene of action, and wait ing in agony which passes des cription for news from the battle field. Before long General Fraser was brought in fatally wounded, and Lady Ackland was informed that her husband was also badly wounded, and a pris oner in the American camp. At this sad news the heroic wife’s determination was soon taken, and when at once her mind was Was made up, she left no stone unturned to carry out her plan. She resolved at all hazards to join her Imsbaiid, and to nurse liim back to health, if possible, and if he must die, to soothe and com fort his last moments. She sent to General Burgoyne, throui'h his aid-de-camp. Lord Petersham, a message asking his permission to pass through the British lines, and asking liim also to give her what help and protection he could in lier hazardous journev. General Burgoyne could scarcely believe that she was in earnest; that a delicate woman worn with suspense and anxiety, witli want of food and rest, should be ready to start in the middle of a dark and stormy night, to traverse unknown roads in the drenching rain, to deliver herself up to tlie enemy without knowing into whose hands she would fall. But in vain he sought to dissuade her from her purpose. One only image filled lier heart, that of her wounded, perhaps dying, husband,, and to reach him and minister to his sufferings, she was ready to en counter any danger, run anv risk. “The assistance I was able to give her,” General Burgoyne writes, “was small indeed : I had not even a cup of wine to offer her. All I could furnisli was an open boat with a few lines writ ten on wet, dirty paper to Gener al Gates, saying who she was, and earnestly recommending her to Ins cai'e and protection.’ WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1876. NUMBER 40. A. soldier’s wife gave In glass of brandy and water, which sent some little warmth through her weak and chilled frame, as auiiil the storm and darkness she eutere 1 an open iioat, accompani ed by Mr. Briuienell, a British cliaplain, Iier own English maid and her luisband’s servant, who had been himself wounded wliile searching for his missing master on the battle-field. They went down the river in a violent temp est of wind and rain, and reached the Amwican outnosts just before daybreak, half dead with cold and fatigue. The sentinel, hear- itig the sound of oars, challeng ed the invisible boat, and great was his surprise wlieti he heard whom the boat contained, and on what mission she had come. He sent for the officer of the guard, who happened to be Major Dear born, before he would permit the passengers to land. Touched by such a proof of wifely devo tion and heroic courage. Major Dearborn invited the whole party into his guardhouse, where he gave them the food they so much needed, and where they warmed and dried themselves by a blazing fire ; and, most comfort ing of all to the poor anxious wife, was the assurance of her husband’s safety. In the morn ing Major Dearborn escorted her to the quarters of General Gates, who treated her with the greatest kindness and consideration, open ly expressing his admiration of her noble conduct. She was con ducted under escort to her wound ed husband, whom she found most carefully tended by the American surgeons; but his re covery was greatly hastened by the presence and loving care of the devoted wife who had run such risks to join him. As soon as he was well enough to travel, he was removed to Albany, whither his wife accom panied him, and where they shared the gracious hospitalities of Madam Schuyler. Neither Major Ackland nor his wife ever forgot this generous treatment, which the British soldier endeav ored in some way to return, while on parole in New York, by doing everything in his power to clieer and alleviate the condition of American officers, prisoners in the hands of his countrymen. In deed, liis gratitude to Americans actually resulted in his death. Soon after his exchange and re turn to Europe, lie was invited to a large military dinner, alto gether composed of English of ficers. In the course of conver sation, one of them, a Lieutenant Lloyd, spoke in the most sneer ing way about the American troops, charging them, among other things, with cowardice. Tins, of course, reflected, indi rectly on the bravery of the En glish troops who had been defeat ed and captured by these so- called cowardly rebels, and was keenly felt and resented by Major Ackland, who, as generous as lie was brave, had always done justice to his victorious foes. High words passed between Lieutenant Lloyd and liimself, and in spite of the efforts of nuitnal friends to settle the matter, a challenge was the consequence of these indiscreet words. They met at an early hour in tlie morning, and Major Ackland fell at the first fire, dying almost immediately. Tlie terrible news was conveyed as cautiously and as kindly as possible to the poor wife, hut the Major had made all his preparations so secretly that she had no suspicion of the duel, and tlie shock was so great that it deprived her of reason. At first she was a raving lunatic ; gradually she subsided into a deep melancholy. She remained in this state for two years, and then slowly regained her health and reason. Slie retired from the gay world, and at the expiration of some years married the Rev. Mr. Brudenell, her kind and faithful companion on her perilous expedition that gloomy, stormy night to the camp of General Gates. She survived him many years and died at an advanced age; but the name of Lady Harriet Ackland will ever occupy a conspicuous position in the annals of the American Revoltioii. —Mrs Halsey in Potter's Ameri can Monthly. THE EXCEJLEEIMT WOMAN. But the holiest of all woman’s functions is maternity ; and as a mother her mightiest influence is exerted. God has put highest hon- 6v and weightiest responsijjLIity on woman in making her such. When the infant Moses was found, the daughter of Pnaraoh said to his mother, “Take this child away, and nurse it for me.” So, when God puts an infant in his mother’s arms, lie says to her, “Take this child and nurse it for me.” Every mother should regard herself as a trainer of immortal souls for God. In this work ceaseless thought, activity, and prayer are expended. In it highest and noblest faculties —all and to their utmost extent— are enlisted and taxed. Love, gentleness, tireless patience, self- sacrifice, toil, are demanded and cheerfully given. And religion enters the nursery as handmaid and helper. The mother gives her child to God, and over its infant days hovers the incense of her prayers. The opening mind is filled with thoughts of God and of right. Early is he taught to trust and to pray. Parental re straint leads to divine restraint. From obedience to parents tlie tran sition to obedience to God is easy. So in all those early years her hand is on the secret springs of charac ter. The clay is plastic, and she fashions it; the twig is tender, and she bends it. ' Said the mother of Washing ton, ‘A good boy generally makes a good man. George was always a good boy.’ So she aims to make her cliildren good boys and girls, that they may become good men and women. And these imjires- sions are deep and lasting. The mother of John Newton often re tired with him to her closet, put her hands on his head, and im plored God’s blessings on her son. Ho never could forget it. In after years of revelry and debauchery, he ever felt her hands upon Ids liead. A few years ago a companv of Indians were captured on the western frontiers. Among them were a number of stolen cliildren. They had been with the savages for years. AYord was sent through out the region, inviting all who had lost children to come and see if among the little captives they could recognize their own. A long way off was a woman who had heed robbed of her darlings, —a boy and a girl. With min gled hope and fear she came; with throbbing heart she ap proached the group. They were strange to her. She came nearer, and, with eyes filled with mother love and earnestness, peered into their fiices, one after another; but there was nothing in any that she could claim. Nor was there any thing in her to light up their cold faces. With the dull pain of de spair at her heart slie was turning away, when she paused, choked back the tears, and, in soft, clear notes began a simple song she used to sing to her little ones of Jesus and heaven. Not a line was completed before a boy and a girl sprang from tbe group, ex claiming “Mamma! mamma!” and she folded her lost ones to her bosom. So lives a mother’s earl}’ infinence in the hearts of her children. on, and with considerable caution. At lengtli he came in sight of a man whose btick was turned to wards him, on his knees, in the attitude of prayer. Potts now stopped and .-oon perceived Gen. Wasliington, the Coinmamler-iii- Cliief of file American armv, le- furiiitig from bending before the God of liosts above. Potts was a jiious man, and no sooner iiad he reached Ids liotiio than he broke forth to his wife : “ Ail’s well! All’s well ! Yes— George AVashington is sure to heat the British, sure !" “ What’.s the matter with thoe, Isaac ?” replied the startled Sarah. “ I bee seems to be beside tlivseif about something, flion art I'umdi moved.” “ AVell, wliat if I am moved ? AVho would not be moved at such a sight as I saw to-dav ?” seen. WASHINGTON AT PKAYEK. After the unsatisfactory en- at Germantown, the American troops were quartered for the winter at A’alley Forge, where their sufferings, it is well known, were extreme. It hap pened, during their sojourn, that a very pious Quaker by the name of Potts, had occasion to pass through a large grove, which was not a great distance from the headquarters. Proceeding along he thought he hoard a voice. He stopped a moment and listened attentively. He did hear a voice, at some distance, and quite dis tinctly, though not catching the words. As it was in the direct course he was pursuing, he went “ Well, what hast thou Isaac I” “See! I’ve seen a man at prayer in tlie woods—George Washington himself, and now I say what I said before—All’s well! George AALashington is sura to beat the British, sure !” This is one of the incidents that tend to prove the decided Chris tian character of AVashington. Washington was never known to intentionally injure the feelings of another, whether he was a friend or an enemy. In illnstra- tion of this trait, an incident is related referring to tlie surrender at Yorktown.—AVhile tlie Conti nental army was preparing to i-e- ceive the BritisI, who were to march forth from the garrison and deliver up their arms, Washington was lieard to remark to his troops. My brave fellows, let no sensa tion of satisfaction for the tri- umphs you have gained, induce you to insult your fellow enemy —let no shouting, no clamoring, huzzaihg,_ increase their mortifica tion. It is sufficient satisfaction to U8 that wo witness their hu miliation. Postei’ity will huzza for ns.”—Inferior. In the morning of life we paint with the brush of fancy, onr beautiful ideal of the future ly ing out before us—a picture of cloudless skies and brilliant snn- shine, of flower-strewn patlis and and tropic blooms—a picture where joy and love, and friend ship and fame stand holding out their beautiful offerings, and wo the central figure of the whole. But how different the i^ieturcs painted each day of life by the brush of pitiless reality ! Not one picture, but many ; for the scenes are ever shifting. The skies are clouded, and the suii- shino faded. The flowers are withered, and hide the thorns no longer. Sorrow stops in where joy had stood ; hatred takes the place of lover; friendslnp, that we had painted with a beautiful face, takes on the hideous look of treachery. At the eventide of life we gaze at the pictures in the gallery of memory, and compar ing the ones that fancy painted with those stamped ujion our hearts by the stern realities of life, we wonder whei'o fancy got its beautiful false colorings. I' 1
The Orphans’ Friend (Oxford, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Oct. 4, 1876, edition 1
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