Decatur Eagle, Volume 2, Number 39, Decatur, Adams County, 5 November 1858 — Page 1

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VOL. 2.

T H E E A G L E. PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY MORNING, BY PHILLIPS & SPENCER, Office, on Main Street, in the old School House, one Square North of J. & P Crabs’ Store. Terms of Subscription : For one year, $1 50, in advance; $1 75, within the year, and $2 00 after the year has expired. EFNo paper will be discontinued until all arrerages are paid, except at the option of the Publishers. Terms of Advertising; One square, (ten lines) three insertions, $1 00 Each subsequent insertion, 25 Hj’No advertisement will be considered less than one square; over one square will be counted and charged as two; over two, as three,etc. i JOE PRINTING: We are prepared to do all kinds of roB-wottK, ! n a neat and workmanlike manner, on the most; reasonable terms. Our material for the coiuple-' tion of Job-Work, being new and of the latest I styles, and we feel confident that satisfaction I can be given. twh: j&ee sa «»mr. Warm fell the impassioned rays of sun On hill brows crowned with golden grain; And on the trees each side the lane, Reddening the cileries one by one. The sea-waves Sang a cradle tune, Or murmured their mysterious lore. To the low-lying languid shore Softly’ through all the afternoon. •Swinging her bonnet in her haund, And trilling dainty throbs of song, The little Marion tripped along To gather shells on the sea sand. Tired reapers resting in the shade, Almost forgot fatigue and heat, In listening to those echoes sweet, And watching where her footsteps strayed. Her father from his dusty’ mill Looked out, and seeing her, he cried, “My darling, you must watch the tide.” She kissed her hand, and said, “I will.” Hut as she vanished from his sight, An (indefinable unrest Rose phantom-like within hi-s breast, And filled him with a vague affright Slow from the bright West died the day, The melancholy night came on: ’1 he reapers from the fields were gone, But Marion had not crossed their way. The busy mill had ceased its hum, 1 he miller left his bags of grain, And homeward hurried down the lane. Wondering if Marion were come. His wife sat spinning at the door, She looked to him with greeting smile, “Ami where is Marion all the while,” She asked--he waited for no more. But hurried breathless to the strand; The risen tide was roaring there; — No trace of Mat ion anywhere — Noteven a foot print in the sand. At last he secs her!—vain deceitlie recognizes with a groan What yonder mocking wave hath thrown — A little bonnet at his feet. That night upon the lonely shore. Two brows were bound with crowns of thorn ; Dreading, yet hoping for, the morn, Two hearts a woeful burden bore. Murn came; her first faint light revealed A little form with dripping curls. With lips and cheek that rivalled pearls, A little form whose fate was sealed. Salt Aik. — Apart from the advantages of bathing in salt water, the inhalation of sea air has a salubrious and beneficial <fleet, which is most apparent upon those who resort to the coast from towns or from inland districts. It has been shown by Professor Foraday and other chemists that oxygin, in the particular condition known under the name of ‘ozone,’ exists in large proportion in sea air. Though air, imprignated with the saline of the sea, is frequently found too strong for some persons, yet, in the great majority of cases, an occasional visit to the const is a caiptal restorative of vital power to those whose nerves are c-xhaus'ed by long sojourn in inland towns. An old lady reading an account of a distinguish old lawyer who was said to be father of the New York bar, exclaimed. ‘Poor man, he had a dreadful set of childern!’ Bad luck is simply a man with his hands in his breeches pockets and a pipe in his mouth, looking on to see how it will | come out. Good luck is a man of pluck to meet difficulties, his sleeves rolled up, working to make it come right. Did the defender! approach the plantiff. reratim? inquired an attorney in a case of assault and battery, the other day. ‘No, sir-ee,’ was the reply, ‘went at’eni with a poker.

A NIGHT ATTACK. BY EMERSON BENNETT. General Lee, in his Memoir of the ■ Southern Campaigns, makes frequent and honorable mention of one Captain Joseph Kirkwood, of the Delaware line, whose regiment, at the battle of Camden, was reduced to a single company, of which the latter remained the commanding officer Owing to the fact that Delaware could not raise another regiment, Captain Kirkwood though truly deserving, could not by military rule receive promotion, and therefore remained in command of a single cempany throughout the revolutionary struggle, taking a gallant and distinguished part, not only in the bloody encounter at Camden, but also in the battles of Hobkirk’s, Eutaw and Ninety-Six. After the declaration of peace, there being no other military service for this gallant officer, he removed with his family within the limits of the present State of Ohio, for the purpose of a permament settlement. He chose a locality nearly opposite the present city of Wheeling, on 1 the right bank of the Ohio, and erected 1 his cabin on a commanding knoll, where, i though greatly exposed, remained unino-' tested fi.,r a couple of years. It was his intention to have built a block house for further security, and he actually commenced one; but, from one cause or another, it was still unfinished in 1791, when the events occurred which we are about to relate. One evening, in the spring of the year i just mentioned, a small party of soldiers, under the command of one Captain Biggs 1 on their way into the country, stopped at j the humble residence of Kirkwood, and asked permission to remain through the 1 night, which was cheerfully granted. The evening was spent in a sociable manner in talking over the various events of the times, Captain Kirkwood depicting some of the more striking of the military scenes which had occurred in his experi- ! cnce, and also speaking, with a soldier’s chagrin at seeing officers younger, and of ' inferior rank, promoted over him, simple ■ because bis little State could not furnish I a sufficient quota of men to give him the rank to which he was honorably entitled. When the hour came for retiring, most of the men were assigned the loft beneath the roof, where with the aid of straw and blankets, they disposed themselves very comfortably upon the rude flooring, Captain Kirkwood with his family and the officer mentioned, remaining below. All gradually fell asleep, and thehou’e remained quiet for several hours, not a soul dreaming that a merciless enemy was even then stealing through the surrounding woods in the darkness, bent upon the destruction of the building, and the death of all it contained. Some time late in the night, Captain Biggs being restless, concluded to get up and take a walk in the open air. Passing I leisurely once or twice around the dwelling, he advanced to the block-house, and [ after examining it a few minutes, and ! wondering why the Captain did not complete it, he turned his steps to the bank iof the river. Here stood a few minutes longer in quiet meditation, looking down upon the dark glidingstream, the rippling i of whose waters, the slight rustling of the leaves, the plaintive hoot of the owl, and now and then, the far-off cry of some I wild beast, being the only sounds that i broke the otherwise solemn stillness. | Once he fancied he heard a movement as of some heavy body in the bushes near j him; and knowing he was in a region of I country not safe from Indian molestation, 'he started and turned quickly 7 in the direction of the sound, looking steadily for I some moments, and prepared for sudden flight, should he discover any further grounds, for his partially aroused fears. But he neither saw nor heard anything to justify alarm, and turning away, he quietly repaired to the dwelling, refastened the door, laid himself down, and fell i asleep. I Soon after this the whole house was startled by a loud cry of fire, which proceeded from one of the men who lodged in the | loft. Captain Kirkwood and Biggs instantly sprang from their beds, and rushing up the ladder, made the startling discovery that the roof was all in flames. A scene of the wildest confusion now pre-1 vailed, the men thus suddenly aroused, and half choked with smoke, not fairly | comprehending their situation, and the j wife and children all shrieking with ter-! ror. As soon as he could make his voice heard | Captain Kirkwood ordered the men to; push off the burning slabs, and while in the act of doing this, a volley of balls rallied in among them, followed by those terrific yells which ever proved so appalling to’those awakened by them in the still hours of night. Two of the men i were wounded by the first discharge of the Indians, whose position, on the top of the block house, situated still higher! on the knoll, commanded the roof of the ' dwelling, and being greatly terrified, they

“Our Country’s Good shall ever be our Aim—Willing to Praise and not afraid to Elaine.”

DECATUR, ADAMS COUNTY, INDIANA, NOV. 5, 1858.

all drew back in dismay, and some de- j dared that their only safety was in iinme- ■ diate flight. Your only safety is in throwing of the roof before the whole house takes fire,’ relumed Captain Kirkwood, as he pushy ed in among them, and put his own hands actively to work. ‘We’ll risk that,’ said one as he hurried to the ladder. ‘l’m not going to remain; cooped up here to be shot at.’ ‘By heavens! you shall remain here! till I give you leave to go down!’ cried the enraged captain, as he sprang sys-. ward, seized the fellow, and threw him back violently. ‘Let us pass!’ cried two or three of the | others, advancing toward the captain —I the shots of the Indians meanwhile rat-' tling like hail against the walls and burn- ’ ing roof, and their wild yells now and 1 then resounding afar through the gloomy wilderness around. ‘What! Mutiny!’ exclaimed Captain Kirkwood. ‘For shame, men! for shame! Turn back this moment, and do your duty! Is it not enough that we have a com- ’ mon enemy without, but we must have a

civil strife within!’ ‘Who dares rebel against Captain Kirkwood’s orders?’ shouted Captain Biggs, from below, whither he had gone for his rifle. ‘Shoot down the first rascal that attempts to escape, Captain, or refuses to obey you!’ ‘Quick, then, pass me up my rifle!’ shouted Kirkwood, who kept his position at the head of the ladder. ‘Aye, here it is,’ returned Captain Biggs. Just as he was in the act of reaching it up, a ball passed through a small window and striking his arm, so disabled it that he let the weapon fall. Ripping out an oath, he picked it up with his other hand and passed it to Kirkwood. The moment the latter got hold of it, he turned to the mutinous men, and exclaimed: ‘Now, let me see who will refuse to do duty! Back, there, and finish your work of throwing off the burning roof! The first man that attempts to leave this house I swear to send this ball through his brain 1’ The more mutinous of the number, finding the captain determined, and that there was no chance for them to escape, at once began to take an active part with those who were already doing their duty; and in a very short time the burning portions of the roof were dislodged and thrown to the grond—the Indians all the while keeping up a steady fire, and slightly wounding one or two more. Thus far our besiegsd party had no opportunity to return the fire of the-enemy; but now the latter, finding that their first attempt to burn the house was likely to prove unsuccessful, rushed forward in a body, with still wilder and more terrific veils, and at once began a vigorous assault upon the doors and windows, the former of which they nearly forced open at the first onset.

The danger now being chiefly below, Captain Kirkwood hurried down, and ordered the greater portion of the men to follow, leaving a few above to defend the open roof, in case the savages should attempt to climb the walls and make an entrance there. At once tearing up several puncheons from the floor, a part of the men proceeded to brace the door in the most effective manner, the others keeping watch near the two small windows, and firing whenever they could get a glimpse of an Indian. In this manner the attack and defence was continued some little time longer—another of the party inside being slightly wounded—when suddenly the sound of a heavy gun came booming through the air. ‘Courage, men!’ cried Captain Kirkwood, in an animated tone; ‘they already hear us at Wheeling, and doubtless assistance will soon be here.’

‘Let us give three cheers!’ said Captain Biggs; ‘just to show the attacking scoundrels that We are not the least intimidated.’ • Three cheers were accordingly given; and were answered by the Indians, by the loudest, wildest, and fiercest yells of furious rage. ‘Aye, yell away, you mean cowardly, thieving, vagabonds!’ shouted one of the men, tauntingly, as he recklessly advanl ced close to one of the small windows, which had not been so boarded up inside jas to render his possition safe from the | balls of the enemy. ‘Have a care there, Walker!’ exclaimed bis commander, in alarm. Scarcely were the words spoken, when the man clapping his hands to his breast, statinered back, reeled and fell to the floor, groaning out; ‘Oh, God! the fiends have killed me!’ Some two or three of his companions immediately lifted the poor fellow, and placed him upon a bed, while the two officers hurried up to examine his wound, whicn with deep regret they discovered to be mortal. As they turned sorrowfully away, the firing and yelling of the Indians, which up to this time had been, al-

j most continual, suddenly ceased ‘Ah! they are about to depart,’ said ■ Captain Kirkwood, joyfully; ‘probably ' they fear a reinforcement.’ ‘More likely they have stopped to plot jpr>me new deviltrv,’said Captain Bitrirs, I who was more familiar with the Indian i mode of warfare. All kept silent for a few minutes —waiting, hoping and fearing—so that the suspense itself was not a little painful.— I Suddenly one of the men uttered an exI clamation of Alarm; and on being ques- ; f ioned as to the cause, replied: 'Listen! Don’t you hear the devil; pilling brush around the house? They’re I going to burn us out!’ ‘ln that case we may be compelled to make a sortie,’ returned Captain Biggs. ‘lt must be at the last moment then.’ ' said Captain Kirkwood; ‘for once beyond i these walls, my wife and children would J stand little chance of escape. If they set fire to us, we must endeavor to put it out. We have considerable water in the house, thank Heaven! and before they can burn through these thick logs, I trust assistance will arrive from the Fort.’

Almost as he said this, a bright sheet of fl ime shot up round the cabin, sheda lurid and fearful light upon those within, and was accompanied bj - a series of terrific and triumphant yells, and a general discharge of fire-arms on the part of the savages. There was not sufficient water in the Louse to justify the inmates in throwing it over the roof; and all they can do, therefore, was to wait, in the most gloomy suspense, till some presence of the fire could be seen between the crevices of the logs, and then attempt to check its headway within. Some liall-an-liour was passed in tl’is manner—the Indians continually fetching and pilling on more brush, until the lapping and writhing fire had ascended to the very roof—keeping up the while their yells of triumph, and occasional shots of musketry; which, combined with the lurid and ghastly light in which each saw lhe other, the loud and awful roaring of the flames, and the groans of the wounded, made a most terrible scene for the imprisoned inmates—a scene that cannot be fully described, and the horrors of which can only be partially comprehended by 'the most vivid immagination. I At length the tire began to dislodge the heated clay—which had been used to stop the chinks and crannies between the logs —and the furious flames to send in j their devouring tongues in search of new j material for destruction; and then all who were able, set eagerly to work, dashing on water, and so checking in some degree i the progress of the consuming element. This was continued until the water became entirely exhausted; and then recourse was had to what milk their chanced to be in the house; and after this, to some fresh earth, which they dug up from beneath the floor—the Indians still keeping up their yells, and firing through every

, i crevice, by which some more of the in- ; mates were wounded, though not motaliy > —and Captains Kirkwood and Biggs mo- ■ ving about from point to point, and animating all parties with their own heroism and the hope of speedy deliverance. The attack began about three o’clock ; in the morning, and lasted till dawn; when the Indians finding they could not ■ i be successful in their fell purpose without ■ carrying the siege far into the day, and probably fearing they might suddenly be surprised by a large party from the Fort, ■' uttered another series of wild, discordant whoops, poured in upon the building one regular volley, and then suddenly retrea- .' ted —the men inside calling after them in I the most taunting manner, the voice of ' the poor fellow mortally wounded being . heard among the loudest. About an hour after sunrise the whele ■ party, having succeeded in subduing the j flames, ventured forth cautiously, and immediately crossed the river to Fort Henry—Walker, the only one who lost his life I expiring on the wav. Here all the living were properly cared for, and the gallant soldier was buried with military honors, j A few days after, Captain Kirkwood { set out with his family for his native State ' but meeting on the way some Delaware ' troops, who were marching to the Indian country, and who offered him the comJ rnand of their body, he took leave of his ' family and turned back. In November j following he took part in the bloody action I known as St. Ciair’s defeat, ‘where he , fell,’ says his chronicler, ‘in a brave atI tempt to repel the enemy with the bayonet, and thus closed a caieer as honorable : as it was unrewarded.’ Another chess prodigy has turned up j in the person of aboy at Worcester, Mass. A year since he didn’t know the moves, but only lately he played three games at the same time'while blindfolded. Words are mighty engines, and should ever be used with discretion. Small as they are in themselves, they are almost omnipotent in their effects.

A Contrast. In the Christain Intelligencer of the , present week, Phillip Bi rry, one of the survivors of the ill-fated steamer Austria, gives some incidents of the terrible calas- ] trophe which befel her, from which we ! make the following exuaet.. Wiiat ales- o Son does it teach to all the living How an Infidel Died.—On bo.id of' the Austria there were but few Christians probably not more than twenty-five.— , There were some bold, wretched infidels ; i I saw the boldest and most Heaven defying of them all perish. 'flic day belorc the disaster, tracts were distributed among j the passengers, were kindly received by < most of them; but this man’s depravity : was not satified to receiveone and destroy ’ it before our faces, but he stealthily gath- 1 ered as many as he could from the pas- ; senders, and feasted on his shame that ! he had destroyed them. He was as bold p as a lion when there was no danger near, : but when God spoke the following day, lie trembled at the alarm and was scarce- I ly able to move. I saw him go overboard. lie threw out his arms as he lay upon his back on ! the wave, his eyes seemed as if they would start from their sockets; thewrithings of agony were seen in his features; and as he was sinking, the last I saw of him was, he clenched his hands, wring- , ing them in agony, and he just leaving I the earth for- ■■, oh tor what? ; A moment more, and, could we have ■ stood on the other side of the river of ; death, we might have heard the despair lingcrv, ‘Oh that 1 had been wise!’ 1 i wept when I saw this. Though so subdued as lie seemed in that hour, and, with Voltaire, would have given all lli.it he was worth for short reprieve, yet had he been rescued he would probably, like some others that were i humbled when death threatened, be the ; same heartless monster when the rescue! came. Some who prayed when the flames I were rusing on them, cursed when they were delivered. How mysterious! What unsearchable mercy is mingled with God’s judgments. May we not hope, that by i their death the godless and wicked on that steamer will be the means of quick- ! ening others into life. We must believe it! How a Ciiristian Died.—From be- ! hind the rangings of those flames, there ; comes the ‘still, small voice’ of consola-: tion. Allow me briefly to narrate the ! Christian scene. At the time of the - alarm my traveling companion 11. Schiebe ; of our Theological Seminary, and myself, j were conversing in the cabin, and found our means of escape through the skylight. When we reached the deck he was exhausted; and while I was attempt- ;

ing to find out some means of safety, 1 left him giving consolation to those who so much needed it. When I found all hope of relief for lhe vessel gone, I returned to him with a life-buoy for each of us. As I approached him, the following beautiful incident occurred. A forlorn female came to him in the greatest agony, wringing her hands, and burdened with fear, and asked him, ‘what can I do?’ He replied, ‘Trust in the Saviour, He is merciful and kind, He will hear you.’ ‘Oh, I can’t pray,’ she answered. Then said be, ‘I will pray for you;’ and he did so. He then left her and came to me.— We bade each other farewell and stood conversing during the few moments that remained to us on the wreck. We delivered our farewell message, each to the other, so if either were saved, our dear friends would know they were not forgotten by us, in bidding adieu to earth. And I will repeat to the Christian world some of the testimonies that he left behind him. As he looked around at the hastening flames, and then at the distant sail, he

said, ‘lf it is God’s will, we will be saved —we may be, but I think not, He knows what is best, Brother,’ said he, ‘my only hope is in the Saviour, bow precious He is! Tell my friends, if you are saved, 7 die happy. Oh, my poor father and mother! write to them, will you not?’ At that moment we heard a fearful shriek at our feet, and on looking down, saw a poor creature, screaming wildly, with his head from a port hole, and the flames encircling it. ‘We must soon go,’ lie said; ‘precious brother, farewell; a few moments, and we will meet in heaven.’ As we had before agreed, we leaped into the ocean at the same time. That leap parted us. He has gone to a higher service, but left me here to plod on in his ‘vale of tears.’ a little while longer. Our small Christian company on the quarterdeck was composed of six brethern and two sisters; and after giving each our last earthly embrace and farewell we went to the side of the vessel, resolved to cling to it as long as possible. What a contrast between our little band and those who knew not lhe preciousness of having Jesus as their best friend! We were sustained in that hour by our Saviors presence. We were all composed —not fearing death, though it met us in a fearful shape. We thought not of the merciless ocean beneath, but of God and and heaven overhead. The calmness

that reigned in our little circle is another instance of the reality of lhe Christian’s hope, and the certainly that it will not fail when needed. There was no such tranquil scenes as this among those who hud placed their trust oul>ide of Christ and his righteousness. During those twenty minutes that I remained on the vessel, were crowned pictures of misery that can fill a life-time’s contemplative hours, but above them towered, in sublime grandeur, the Christian heroism of a few pious souls. The fearful tragedy could not daunt or smother that. Lost Stars. Those who study the lieavens say that often a star drops out of the firmament or dies there, and is lost to sight forever after. It may have been lhe bright star of hope of many a marine on the uncertain sea of life. Its calm, gentle radiance mav sited good cheer and comfort upon many a path dark with doubt, and sorrow, and dread. Like these drooping, dying stars, our loved ones go away from <>ur sight. The stars of our hopes, our ambitions our prayers, whose light shines ever before us, leading on and up they suddenly fade from the firmament of our hearts, and their place is empty and 'dark. A mother’s steady, soft and earnest light, that beamed through ail our wants and sorrows; a fatlieis strong, quick light, that kept our feet from stumbling on lhe dark and treacherous ways; a sister’s light, so mild, so pure, so con'slant and so firm, shining upon us from i gentle, loving eyes, and persuading us to 'grace and goodness; a bvotheis light ! bright and bold, and honest; n lovers i light, forever sleeping in our souls and illuminating our goings; a friend’s light, j true and trusty —gone out forever? No! : no! the light has not gone out. It is ; shining beyond the stars where there is ' no night and no darkness forever and for- ; ever. . >»♦ OB in A clergyman was late accused in L iwell Mass., of violently dragging his wife from | a revival meeting, and compelling her !to go home with him. He replied as follows: In the first place. I have never at--1 tempted to influence my wife in her views, ' nor a choice of meeting. Secondly—my ( wife has not attended any of the revival meeting in Lowell. • in the third place—--1 have not attended one of these meetings ! for any purpose whatever. To conclude ■ —neither my wife nor myself have any inclination to attend these meetings. — i Finally—l never had a wife nor myself j have any inclination ’<> attend these meej tings. Finally —I never had a wife.

| j For the Ladies.—The late news about ,' the Paris ‘fashions’ is somewhat startling. ! I Fat is the rage Ladies cultivate it.— .; They are devouring vast quantities of butI ter, mashed rose-leaves and such like.— , : The Fmpress is quite corpulent, which accounts for the style. The fashion will Ibe here before long. We hail it with |‘joy.’ A new era is dawning. Our girls , | will stop eating slate pencils and chalk, . j and commence partaking liberally of roast | beef and baked beans—they will rise with the lark—they will try on the wash-tub, perhaps. 1 Died Scott, who recently died, was a I very old negro, and enjoyed perfect free- ; dom even after the famous decision. At I the rrreat railroad celebration in St. Louis . o j in June, 1858, he was upon the fair ground ' , and an object of greater curiosity to most 1 people than any of the while lions in the ' |city. He was quite proud of the ‘fuss’ 'I he had created in the United States and ’ enjoyed his notoriety mightily

' A Keokuk paper given a distressing 1 picture of things in lowa, comparing iis 1 condition to that of ‘the doomed citv of Jerusalem.’ They have creditors withr out and creditors within, every third man is a lawyer, every other man virtually a 1 pauper, and all listless and unprofitable c | idleness, except, the police and conJ stables. ’ I A lady said to her husband, in Jerrold’s ■* prsence: ‘My dear, you certainly want ' some new trott- :.s.’ ‘Ko, I think not,’ ’ said the husband. ‘Weil,’ Jerrold inter- ‘ posed. ‘I think the lady who always ! wears them ought to know.’ — ‘ I Among the attraction of a canipmeeting at Redding, Conn., was a fat girl, yet ! i in her teens, weighing six hundred ’! pounds, and dressed in bloomer with low- ! necked dress, and bare arms. A good ‘ many people saw a /reat deal of her, and I report her fair to behoid t I HI —■ ♦<*- I A Missouri editor apologizes for the I neglect of editorial duty, on account of ! the advent of a new member of the fam- • ily, and claims indugence on the ground that the thing ‘only hapens once a year.’ As a general, rule, self interest is the 1 mainspring of our actions, and utility the > test of their virtue. •

NO. 39.