Lucy (Chapter_08)

his bible, as long as the light would serve him, while Becky was busied mending old clothes--and when the flames died away, and they could no longer see, they sat over the glowing embers; pouring out their hearts, in grateful and not unharmonious hymns. CHAP 8--The next morning when the good couple arose, they found poor Lucy, shaking with a violent ague, which lasted several hours, and was succeeded by a burning fever, which did not leave her until sun-down. When she again was easy and free from pain and took the offer'd nourishment. According to promise, Richard came home early, to contrive himself a bed. He took the children with him, to go gather broom-sedge and old-fieldgrass. The first, is a high, strong grass, as thick as straw, with which, the negroes make brooms, baskets, and matting, which last, will answer for a covering of for a floor or bed; the old-fieldgrass, is of a fine-soft texture, very agreeable for beds. While the children were busied in the old-fields, he took his axe and went into the woods, to cut some saplings and stakes.-It was dark when they return'd, and the good natured Uncle George, seeing some piece of work was going on, join'd company, in order to lend a helping hand. When they enter'd the cabin, Lucy, was propped up in bed, and tho' very pale and feeble, assured her kind friends, she felt much better. [All hands now fell to work. Richard had several of the most common carpenter's tools and where they were wanting his own ingenuity supply'd the deficiency. Lucy, watch'd with a lively interest the group before her; Uncle George and Becky were tying together the broom-sedge, to form a kind of matting for a covering. While the children gay and merry, laid it strait and handed the little bundles to them. Richard proceeded to make the bed-stead-The cabin was too small to admit of another on the floor, so he said, he would hang it from the ceiling, like sailors do their hammocks, having no ropes, he took hickory saplings and nailing them to the rafters, he burnt holes for he had no auguir to bore them, through which he put end pieces.--When he found these to hang firmly and evenly, he

as they said, "considering what a silent, bashful kind of body she had been" [But Lucy, was no longer the simple rustic--She had served her time in the school of the passions, and had learn'd more of human nature, than she could have done, in a whole life of retirement and innocence.--Besides she had read a great deal and caught the language as well as sentiments of the books she had read. I own her details, gave me an insight into the { ?} in nature, I never otherwise should have attained, and confirmed me, in what I before believed--that Virtue--alone, is happiness below!-

in every community, and by every individual, for the extension of Moral and religious knowledge--with out which, the knowledge of letters, will avail little in the grand object, of purifying the human heart, that fountain, from which all action flows. And I join Moral, to religious knowledge, because even some of the best Christians have confined their religious instruction, too much, to obstruce doctrines, and tenets, which never have, and never will, have the proposed effect. So far from it, this kind of religion, joined to { ?} and even observance of forms, has a demoralizing effect. religious instruction, should not go beyond the two great

and chestnuts to eat. Oh such heart breaking sights as those old eyes have seen. But oh Missey the most killingest sight ever any mortal has seen, was once, when Master and I was taken {prisoners?}, for I never quitted master's side, and where he went, I went , which then, Missey it happen'd so, that one night, but not on our march to meet Cornwallis, that I was telling you about; no it was afore that--Master and his party; about twenty brave lads do ye see, had put up with one of the kindest ladies, as ever broke bread; and we put up there because our Lieutenant, was her son, and his young wife, was staying along with his mother. And he wanted so to see her, that he coaxed master to go there. Well then Missey, such joy you never see as meeting of mother and son, and the young-bride, Oh's I thought between them, they would a hugg'd the young gentleman to death. And such a supper as they made for us! and while I waited at table, I couldn't take my eyes off the young Capt--as we call'd him. He sat a'tween his mother and wife--neither of them would eat a morsel, for the looking at him, and every now and then the fond mother would kiss him, and the wife look'd as if she could a done so too, only for modesty sake, but she held his hand fast. "Well a day Missey, while we were all so gladsome and merry, thinking no harm, all at once the house was surrounded by them cursed Torries, and a party of British,--Every one retch'd up, whatever he could lay hold of, but alas, alas, we wasn't prepared, not knowing no torries was there abouts to give notice, we wasn't prepared and they even had us all prisoners then after plundering the house and driving off the people and cattle, they sets fire

to the house, and the stacks of rice, and all-all--was one blaze.. They left the poor Madam and her daughter, tearing their hair and running after us in the woods, like two distracted cretins, as they were, and march'd us up to a fort, So Missey, the poor distracted young Capt.--got out of the place where they kept him, and snatching a musket out o'the hands of a soldier, he ran about the place, till he sees a parcel of officers standing together, and seeing the one as had abused his sweet wife, he lets go his musket, and kills him dead on the spot. "Lord Missey, theres no telling the combustion this made, Nothing they made out was too bad for him; he was loaded with irons, and let down into a dry-well, that happen'd to be in the fort--and it was shut down on him, till he was hang'd--"To them the day came, and just as all was ready and all the regiment march'd out to see them hang'd, and Master and all our people paraded to see the fine sight; as the savages call'd it, what should we see, but a chaise, comin in, driven by a good old man, as was a torry, for there was some tender-hearted torries, who had pity on this poor young man, and had brought his mother and wife to plead for him--"And so then, they ran, and threw themselves on their knees afore the very wretch that had burn'd the house over their heads, and oh how they did, cry and pray, and by the young lady threw herself on the very ground and kissed his feet--Yes, missey, and the very torry and British officers themselves begg'd the cruel. We to spare a poor distracted youth.--But his heart was hard as marble-Let nobody talk about Indians--no Mohawk, would ever have been that hard hearted--as sure as you sit here, Missey, so sure they hang'd him, night afore his mother and his wife, who wanted to run and pull him down, only the guards held them fast.--Oh I need not pretend to tell, from no tongue can tell how { ? ] took em--I never saw them afterwards--They gave the body of her son to the poor mother; who carried it home;