The banner. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1844-1847, July 15, 1846, Image 1
THE BANNEfr
[WEEKLY.]
i *
{Vol. III. Abbeville O. H., S. O. July 15, 1846.
Published every Wednesday Morning, by
ALLEN & KERR.
fir to STerins.
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(for the banner.)
Mr. Editor:?You will oblige a subscriber,
if you will publish in your pa-?
per, the inclosed communication from
the " Southern Post, Macon Ga., Feb'y
23d 1839.
The incidents related, are strictly
true; but they occurred at different
times and at different camps.
The officer of the guard, (called
Lieut. Calhart,) I know to be Capt.
Wm. M. Calhoun of our District. He
was the late popular commander of that
fine volunteer company, the Abbeville.
Artillery, which dates its existence prior
to the war of 1812. Capt. Caliioun
in the Seminole war, was a Lieutenant
in Capt. Parker's company. T.
THE OFFICER OF THE GUARD.
The sun had already sunk in the
west, amid the gorgeous coloring of a
southern horizon, and the last streaks of
day begining to disappear, when a company
of men might have been seen wending
their way, in silence through the
trackless wilds of Florida. They might
perhaps have numbered a hundred, but
tneir naggara looks ana uneasy pace,
showed that they had been wearied by
a long and toilsome march. They carried
their knapsacks loosely slang over
their shoulders, and their sunburnt
countanances gradually assumed an air
of settled despondency, as they looked
around upon the savage wilderness cn
either side, now rendered more gloomy
by the sombre shades of twilight, and
thought that here they must pass a restless
night, and perhaps find a bloody
grave. It is perhaps a principle in our
nature, that we should couple darkness
with terror, and that the existence of the
one should frequently be productive of
the other. But there were ciftumstances
connected with their situation, still
more calculated to produce despondency,
if not to cause terror. They were in the
heart of the Indian territory, and surrounded
by objects dear to the Indian's
heart. They were invading the most
secret and sacrcd haunts of the red man,
and were perhaps, even now, treading
upon me consecrated mounds, tnat contained
the revered ashes ofhis ancestors.
Fox these they knew he would contend,
until his pulse should cease to throb,
and his heart to beat. Here, perhaps,
in the days of their glory, they had
gathered around the council fire of their
chiefs, and as they pass the sacred calumet,
listened to the deeds of daring recounted
by their venerable heroes. And j
after having been driven from post to
post, and forced to abandon the most desirable
portion of their territory, it was
thought they would, here, amidst the
relics of their former greatness, and in the
very theatre of their glory, make an effort,
the more to be dreaded, as it was
an effort of despair. Such were the
thoughts, coupled with the circumstances
of time and place, that infused deenAndprifv
intn iho Vionrto nf ihiieo in
Other circumstances, daring soldiers.
Meantime, they had gained a portion !
of the forest more elevated than that immediately
around it, but by so gradual
an ascent, as scarcely to be perceivable.
This place was chosen for n camp, and
preparations were accordingly made for
passing the night as comfortable as pos
sible. The ground, as is usual in that
portion of the country, w.as covered with
lofrg grass, which served the double purpose,
of beds for the soldiers, and provender
for the horses; while, at small
distances, were huge pines, the growth
of ages, whose clustering lops towered
towards heaven, and formed a canopy
which nattiallv warded off the dews of
night. The
sentinels had been posted, the
fires kindled, and the preparations for
supper commenced ; and under the in*
fluence of rest and comfort, cheerfulness
had again, .resumed her sway, and the
merry joke faegan to circulate, whert, as
ifljy magic, a- bl&ze of light stTe&irted
from the top of the tallest tree, at about
the distance of a quarter of a mile off?
another soon appeared in the oppppite
directioh, and then another^ and another,
until1 in eveiy direction ai'ound the camp,
the awful Signals of destruction flashed
utthnlthe devoted hand. AtiH then, in
rencter their situation more appalling,
the terrible war-whoop of the savage
sounded shrill and clear in the stillness
of the night, and ere the echo died away,
it was taken up, and prolonged by an
other, and another, until the vpry trees
seemed gifted with utterance, to peal
the signal notes of death.
At the sight of the first signal light,
the drum heat to arms, and the soldiors
hurried to their appropriate places, in the
utmost consternution. Many a cheek
was blanched then, that never bl nched
before, and " the chilled bloo^ ' id
slowly back to its fountain," in n?
bosom that never before had bep i
fear.
There is something peculiarly startling
and terrible in the Indian warwhoop
at any time, but here every circumstance
conspired to render it more so.
The wild and rugged character of the
scenery, now rendered more strikingly
uncouth by the unsteady flicker of the '
camp fires which threw their pale and
ghostly light upon the huge trunks of
the aged pines, which rose in spectrelike
grandeur around?the insignia of
the Indian's birthright?while far in the
distance, flashed those dreadful lights,
which betokened the Indian's revenge,
aria around were lurking tno cralty and
daring foes of the white men.
It was a moment of awful suspense ;
the men grasped their arms more tightly,
and drew their breath hard, as if they
expected each one would he the last.
The sentinels, meanwhile, rained
their posts, although they were raw militia,
who had never before known the
duties, or the dangers of warfare?a
striking illustration of the influence that
a sense of duty exerts upon the mind of
man.
Scarcely, however, had the last receding
echoes of the war-whoop died away
in the distance, before the clear notes of
the commander were heard?he seemed
in the general consternation, to partake i
of his full s^are, and addressed the sen|
tinels. who needed other encouragement,
with, " Look out there, you d d rascals,
or you will all be in hell in less
than ten minutes; the Indians will
have them scalps of vours, before vou
know what you are about."
Then turning about, he bawled out,
" where's Lieut. Calhart ?"
" He's officer of the guard, tonight,"
said a soldier near him.
" D n it, 1 know that,*' said the
choleric Major.
u Where is he V'
" Yonder he stands."
The Major now approached a young
man of a tall and manly form, graceful
figure and Martial appearance, who
was standing at the left of his company,
with his right hand resting on his sword
hilt, and the other hanging listlessly at
his side. He seemed rather a spectator
I of the scenes enacting around him,
[ than an actor in them, for he did not manifest
any of the anxiety depicted on the
countenances of his commanders.
tC Well, Lieutenant," said his commander,
bustling up to him, " I'm afraid
we'll all be in h?U in less than ten
minutes."
"Very likely," was the laconic answer.
" Now, I want you to take four men,
and patrol all round the camp* and see
where the Indians are."
The Lieutenant started at so novel
and dangerous a command, but said nothing?his
captain interposed.
41 Major, that is a strange order; it
will do no good, and only risk the men's
lives to no purpose?fos if the Sentinels
don't kill.tnem, the Indians will."
" I'll go Captain," safd the Lieutenant.
" I came here to do my duty and
I'll do it"
It was with some difficulty he could
induce the men to accompany him, but
the example of a brave man has more
influence than the greatest hopes of reward,
in such an enterprise as this;
and the example was not wanting in
the present instance. " Besides, there
was not so much danger in obeying this
command, as might at first be imagined.
.The sentries would be afraid to haM
at so great a distance from the camp,
lest they should discover their wherfeabout.
and thun Sftt thpmaplvpa 11 n n
mark for the bullet's of the Indians.
And, on the other hand, the Indians,
who probably did not number over a
dozen, were most likely at a great distance
from the fcamp. Bat as wie have
to do only with the Lieutenant's adventures,
as officer of the guard that night,
we will merely say, they returned in
safety, without seeing an Indian.
Alter his return, having visited all the
posts, the Lieutenant was sitting by the
camp fire, with his face hurried in his
hands, and his elbows resting on his
knees, when he heard the following
conversation carried on in an under
tone, by two soldiers, at a little distance
from him.
it ? ' * ~ "
- jut-, you neara wnat a conlounded
rule they made about the sentinels, today
?"
"No, Iaint; what is it?"
" Why, they passed a rule, that every
sentinel they catch asleep, on duty, shall
be shot; because they say we are in
the proximityi (or some such word as
that) of the enemy. You have to go out
next time, don't you ?"
s " Yes?but I'm not going to sleep."
" Well=?you see that man yonder^itting
on the log? He's officer of 'the*
guard to-night, and if you don't look
out, he'll take your gun from you, while
you are wide awake, just to show you
how easy an Indian could have done
it."
There was a pause of some moments,
during which the person addressed,
took a deliberate survey of the Lieutenant,
and then said, in a drawlling manner,
that he intended should be emphatic
:
" I'll be conduderated if he gets my
gun, Bill!"
The Lieutenant said nothing, but
rose to revisit the post again previous to
the sentries being relieved. He found
all in order, until he had proceeded
about half Tound, when approaching
one of the sentries who was stationed by
a larce trfifi. hp. saw tho mniinnc if
a J 5 "J "? ...v,w.v,?o
his head, that he was, what is generally
termed, '* nodding." He was seated
with his arms, near the elbow resting
on his knees ; and his gun, which had
fallen from his hands, was leaning
against his shoulder, with the butt on the
ground, between his feet The Lieutenant
approached him softly, and placing
himself behind the tree, at his back,
took the gun gently by the barrel, and
had almost drawn it from him. when the
lock, catching by some part of his clothing,
awakened him. Suddenly jumping
up, he seized his gun, and exclaimed?
" I'll be d?d if I was asleep. I was
not asleep."
" How dare you then, sir," said the officer,
sternly, "let me approach you in
this manner, without hailing if you
were not asleen?"
" Well, officer?to tell the truth?I
was asleep ; but you know we have hud
a tiresome march to-day, and I could
not help it."
" I have marched with my company
all day, and have not had the opportunities
of rest you enjoyed."
l I was overcome, against my inclination,
this time, officer. I hope you will
not report me !"
"X must do my duty, sir," said the officer,
sternly, as he turned to pursue his
rounds.
The sentinel resumed his station,
with the feelings of a man who knows
he has to meet some fearful destiny,
which he cannot avoid, and yet has
some faint hope that he may escape
Thp fplnrn'j /JootK oia*r\A UJyv* ??
- .... .v.w.a u uvuiu amicu ii;ui in me mtCj
and for the simple fault of yielding,
when he could no longer resist, to the
calls of nature. Nothing tends more to
take away that firmness of character
which belongs to man, and to destroy
his self-possession than a state of suspense.
The criminal, condemned to
die, when there is no hope of pardon,
may look with calmness upon his approaching
end; because there being no
alternative, he can summon all his energies
to aid in the only struggle, and
bring his whole mind to bear upon one
particular point. But only give him a
hope of escape, and you divide the mind
?it wavers between the desire of life
and the fear of death-?there is a conflict
in himself, and as the two feelings must
be equal, and opposed to each other?
each claims an equal share of the mind,
and prevents its acting as a whole,
which naturally destroys the force of
action, in whatever manner directed.
Such were the feelings of the sentinel.
But let us follow the officer.
He next approached a sentinel, who
p.ithftr. frrtm icmnranc^n* ?wm?1<!
""""""J "w"" O ww VI nvgijjiij vvuiu V
not be purs nailed to do his duty prop
ly. He hailed?
u Who comes ther?"
" Officer of the Guard."
:t Well, sin nd."
" What comes next ?" said the officer,
after he had remained standing- some
few moments?" I hope you'll not keep
mr> Ctninlinir hni-Q ? 11 "
- an kji^iii. |
" Give the countersign."
" Not here?the Indians out there
will hear it as well as you."
" Well? you may come a little closer.
There?stand?give the countersign."
" I'll give in your name in the morn- j
ing, for wilful disobedience of orders,"
said the officer, loosing patience, " if
you do not perform your duty as you
should." w j
This treat was sufficient?for fearing
the effects of the Lieutenant's anger, lie
said, respectfully?
" Advance, officer, and give the countersign."
In the meantime, the relief had none
out, and the post lie yet had to visit,
were occupied by the new set?approaching
one, the seniint'l, instead of
hailing-, embraced his gun closely, and
turning his back to the officer, exclaimed?
" I'll be d?d if you get my gun, mister."
" Stop, you gump," said the officer,
" and do your duty?I don't want your
gun."
The soldier stopped, and looking
back, without turning his body, said?
" Well."
" Ask, who comes there 1"
" There's no use in nslrinor that?T
? 0
know."
" Ask it, sir ; whether you know or
not."
" Who comes there ?"
" Officer of the guard. Go on."
" The soldier, either not understanding,
or not wishing to understand,
walked off.
" Stop, sir," said the officer ; il ask the
next."
" What is it?"
" Advance and give the countersign."
" You are close enough now, to give
it"
ffhe officer sprang towards him, and
seizing him by the collar, gave hi
hearty shake, and then worked upoh
his fears so successfully, by threats, that
I . .1 i .t * 1
ne vveni inrougn me lormuia null a dozen
times, from the Lieutenant's dictation
; and swore, by his hojJfes of happiness
hereafter, he never would trifle
With an officer again.
The labors of the night were ended,
and the officer was lying in his tent, in
vain courting the drowsy God, when
a voice near him, in an under tone,
said?
' Officer?"
" Who is there?" said the Lieutenant,
striving, in the dark, to distinguish the
outlines of the speaker.
" The sentinel you found asleep to
night. Have you returned me ?"
" Not yet."
" Officer, you did me injustice ; I did
not deserv* such harsh treatment
Though I violated the law, I do not deserve
the penalty. Sleep overcame me,
and I could not avoid it. I had overtaxed
my powers, and they relaxed
their tension when I most needed their
aid. And though I do not fear death,
When I can meet it as a man and a pen
' ? I
tleman, I cannot help shrinking from ,
being set up as a mark, for the bullets
of my countrymen, and for so small an
offence."
" My dear fellow," said the Lieutenant,
" you need be under no apprehensions
; you will not be reported. I
thought it best to leave you in suspense,
to prevent a repetition of the offence;
but I will not inflict unmerited punishment
upon a fellow soldier."
The stranger threw his arms around
the Lieutenant, and burst into tears.
They did not disgrace his manhood, but
were the pledges of his gratitude. He
received life from the hands of a stranger?tears
were but a poor reward. He
could only say, " God bless you, officer,"
and rushed from the tent. The Lieutenant
soon went to sleep, with the con
viction that "Mercy confers a double
blessing?it blesses him that gives, and
him that receives." C.
GreensboroGa.
JL llC
! .hciden-t . eclated in a respectaj
Me village newspaper, "out west," of
J course:
A gentleman travelling- on an unfrequented
obscure road, and passing a solitary
shanty, or shingle-shop, his attention
was arrested by a loud outcry of,
"Hallo thrrc! I say! Murder! fire!
tongs! gridirons! and brimstone! Hallo-oah!"
and a man came rushing forth
in groat haste, wearing a leathern
apron, but without his coat, and, approaching
the traveller.
"What is the matter? what's the
matter?" inquired the traveller, whose
sympathy was evidently aroused,
" O!" shrieked the settler, with agony
depiCteif' on his countenance : 41 l}vi
ouCn'tcrbackcr?got any 'boutye?"
Green Sass' Dainks.?A Hoosier
stopped opposite one of our fashionable
drinking saloons a day or two since,
and with his hands deep in his breeches
pockets and the front of his chip turned
up, seemed looking with absorbed interest
into the interior, at an individual
luxuriating on a julep with straw accompaniments.
Well L'll swar, if that ain't a new
kick," says he. tk Who'd a thort of sich a
thing as a green sass' drink? How
consarned cool that ar leller sucks it,"
soliloquized he, moving his body in a
sympathetic manner as if engaged in
drawing the fluid himself. " I'll hev a
taste of that inixtnr ef I bust a bit," was
his conclusion ; so in he went.
" Whut will you take sir?" inquired
the bar-keopnr.
i u Jest go on and give that feller his
liclcer, cans, I aint half as dry as he
looks," said the Hoosier, pointing to a
customer at the other end of the counter.
" Now,!" said the attentive attendant.
The Hoosier reached across the counter,
took hold of his collar, and drawing
him close up, whispered in his ear:
1 " A giuen sass' drink with all the fixj
ins!" and he winked his eye familiarly,
as if to convey his meaning more fully
that all the ingredients should be thar.
" Yes, sir," saiu the bar keeper,
j The mint was fixed in, the ice beside
it, the sugar piled on top^and the fluid
delicately poured over all 5 the whole
was then commingled, and with the accompanying
straw ornament handed to
the customer. * He pulled his hands out
of his pockets, picked up the glass, and
commenced, first a suck and then a guffaw,
which exercise he Continued until
the straw squealed with emptiness,
whereupon, setting it down, he pulled
out his hit. mid mn??ntpd tl?#? r?r\orii?ir?r?
r
of whispering lo the bar-keeper, told
him secretly:
" Iv'e seed through them ar green,
sass' drinks; they' pooty good, all icept
the ice. and I reckon thur cold enough
'thout that; but, stranger, that' fodder
stuff is an amazin' cute idee for the tern*
perance folks; it's put in 1 speculate,,
to hide, the lickcr !"
' I A
Blushing.?We love to see the rosy
hue mounting over the neck and face'of
a beautiful woman, it shadows forth,
delieatelv arni snftlv thp m>rnlo
J J lowing
of her soul. It is the evidence of timidity
which is lovely in woman. Out
upon yo,ur masculine mind?out upon
your rough, sturdy genius; we prefer
the red to ash?ivy to oak. Woman's
natural element is retirement; her
homo the domestic circle. Unfit by nature
to buffet with the world's waves,
or mingle in its strife, she lives independent
upon a strong spirit, and repays in
kindness and gentleness that which sho
receives in protection and support.
We cannot bear a woman who never
blushes; the steady, cold, calm eye,
has no charm for us, there is a beauty
and a gentleness in the downcast look,
a stealing tear, and warm blush, that
defies comparison, even with the loveliest
of the haughty. Those who endeavor
lo curb and restrain this feeling,
thinking it a weakness, err strangely in
their ideas. Let it alone there is no deformity
in the indulgence.
Self Control,?Let not any one
sav he fiftrmnt'ffftvprn his nAsainns.
1 ,7 o i ?
nor hinder him from breaking out
and carying into action ; for, what
he can do before a prince or a
great man, he cando alone, orin
the presence of God if he will.'1