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he, however, refused to be carried below, but continued on deck through the action. The active command was then taken by Lieutenant McCall, who conducted himself with great skill and coolness. The enemy was out-maneuvered and cut up; his main-top-mast and topsail-yard shot away; a position gained on his starboard bow, and a raking fire kept up, until his guns were silenced and he cried for quarter, saying that as his colors were nailed to the mast he could not haul them down. The prize proved to be his Britannic majesty's brig Boxer, of fourteen guns. The number of her crew is a matter of conjecture and dispute.
We turn gladly from such an idle discussion to notice the last moments of the worthy Burroughs. There needs no elaborate pencil to impart pathos and grandeur to the death of a brave man. The simple anecdotes, given in simple terms by his surviving comrades, present more striking pictures than could be wrought up by the most refined attempts of art. “At twenty minutes past three P. m.,” says one account, “our brave commander fell, and while lying on the deck, refusing to be carried below, raised his head and requested that the flag might never be struck.” In this situation he remained during the rest of the engagement, regardless of bodily pain; regardless of the life-blood fast ebbing from his wound; watching with anxious eye the vicissitudes of battle ; cheering his men by his voice, but animating them still more by his glorious example. When the sword of the vanquished enemy was presented to him, we are told that he clasped his hands and exclaimed, “I am satisfied, I die contented." He
now permitted himself to be carried below, and the necessary attentions were paid to save his live, or alleviate his sufferings. His wound, however, was beyond the power of surgery, and he breathed his last within a few hours after the victory.
THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
BY W. H. BURLEIGH.
Bold men were they, and true, that pilgrim band,
Who plough’d with venturous prow the stormy sea,
Seeking a home for hunted Liberty
Friends, country, hallow'd homes they left, to be
Beset by peril, worn with toil, yet free! Tireless in zeal, devotion, labor, hope ;
Constant in faith ; in justice how severe !
Though fools deride and bigot-skeptics sneer,
In evil es, with dark and evil powers,
IT IS GREAT FOR OUR COUNTRY TO DIE.
BY J. G. PERCIVAL.
0! it is great for our country to die, where ranks are con
tending : Bright is the wreath of our fame; Glory awaits us for
ayeGlory, that never is dim, shining on with light never ending
Glory that never shall fade, never, 0! never away.
0! it is sweet for our country to die—how softly reposes
Warrior youth on his bier, wet by the tears of his love, Wet by a mother's warm tears; they crown him with garlands
Weep, and then joyously turn, bright where he triumphs
Not to the shades shall the youth descend, who for country
hath perish'd HEBE awaits him in heaven, welcomes him there with her
smile; There at the banquet divine, the patriot spirit is cherish'd ; Gods love the young, who ascend pure from the funeral
Not to Elysian fields, by the still, oblivious river ;
Not to the isles of the bless'd, over the blue, rolling sea ; But on Olympian heights, shall dwell the devoted for ever ; There shall assemble the good, there the wise, valiant, and
0! then, how great for our country to die, in the front rank
to perish, Firm with our breast to the foe, Victory's shout in our ear : Long they our statues shall crown, in songs our memory
cherish; W hall look forth from our heaven, pleased the sweet
music to hear.
DICEY LANGSTON was the daughter of Solomon Langston, of Laurens District, South Carolina. She possessed an intrepid spirit, which is highly serviceable in times of emergency, and which, as she lived in the days of the Revolution, she had more than one opportunity to display. Situated in the midst of Tories, and being patriotically inquisitive, she often learned by accident, or discovered by strategy, the plottings, so common in those days, against the Whigs. Such intelligence she was accustomed to communicate to the friends of freedom on the opposite side of the Ennoree River.
Learning one time that a band of loyalists—known in those days as the “ bloody scout”—were about to fall upon the “ Elder Settlement,” a place where a brother of hers and other friends were residing, she resolved to warn them of their danger.
To do this she must hazard her own life. But off she started, alone, in the darkness of the night; travelled several miles through the woods, and over marshes and across creeks, through a country where foot-logs and bridges were then unknown ; came to the Tyger, a rapid and deep stream, into which she plunged, and waded till the water was up to