frightened by Sarah's impolitic words and hurried after her, saying, "Sally, you have ruined us, I'm afraid." This was probably the last time that she was in the presence of Rawdon. She had no more favors to ask of him, and there is no doubt that he was glad, indeed, to be relieved of her coming and her plain speaking. That independent spirit of hers always manifested itself in her countenance even when her words were modified by her position as a suppliant, and would often be seen in her face when she was not conscious of revealing her feelings. At the jail there was another, the less painful season of waiting, while the blacksmith severed the irons that held the prisoners. With joy, at last, the eleven prisoners of Chester were released, and though weak and sick from their confinement, their spirits were yet undaunted, and they had voice and strength to sing liberty songs as they passed the guard on their way from Camden. McCalla was in a feeble condition and the party could travel but slowly toward home. They separated into two companies, those who were able to travel more rapidly, and those who because of infirmity required frequent rests on the way. On reaching home, Sarah, freed from anxiety in regard to her husband, had one more onerous duty to confront her. That was the payment of the debts which had accumulated by reason of the neglect of the farm and the furnishing of supplies for her husband while languishing in prison. After much hard work and self denial these debts were all paid in full. She had saved the life of her husband while in prison and she helped to save his reputation, which they both accounted dearer than life, after his release. Her reward for her devotion was the respect even of British officers and soldiers, who could not but respect those who had the courage of their convictions, the gratitude of those whom she had helped; the regard and esteem of all true patriots; the confidence and respect of all her acquaintances; the veneration of all her descendants who hold her memory with a sacred reverence akin to devotion; and the consciousness of having served her God and her country with persevering constancy and unabated fervor till her native country which she loved so well had taken an honored place among the great nations of the earth as the peer of them all. She knew no fear. She gave evidence of this when at the age of seventy years she traveled alone on horseback all the way to Indiana from South Carolina, to visit her daughter who had married a son of the Revolutionary heroine Katharine Steele. In the little church-yard, Hopewell, her old home, lie the ashes of Sarah McCalla; but her noble and heroic spirit freed from the casings of clay has joined its kindred in the skies where the last enemy has no entrance. "Ah! me, beyond all power to name, those worthies tried and true, Brave men, FAIR WOMEN, youth and maid, pass by in grand review." -Whittier. "Read the fresh annals of our land, the gathering dust of time Bloomington, Indiana. P. S. At Chariton, Iowa, there is a flourishing Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution, named Sarah McCalla Chapter, in honor of Mrs. McCalla. Mrs. Gertrude A. Stanton, the first Regent of this Chapter, is a descendant of Mrs. Sarah McCalla, in the fourth generation, and her infant daughter, Sarah McCalla Stanton, was the first babe born to a member of the Chapter after its organization. Chariton, Iowa. REV. JOHN H. AUGHEY. "How darest thou, woman," he cried, "to let "How darest thou, sir? for the war is o'er And the good wife's broom came stoutly down A sound of music! and down Broadway, That grand procession, threadbare and gray, And under the new-born nation's sign, The famous heroes we love to shrine In our heart of hearts, marched down the line, With glorious Washington. And the British ships, with their flags amast, A song to-day, for the patriot past! OLD LACE. MINNIE PARKE DETWEILER. Let me feel it child! Methinks I can trace Tell many a story I read page by page- Faces of loved ones once so dear to me. They throng around me. Upon the wedding morn. She who wore this lace She stood beside the one she loved. That day Sweet is the home-coming! Yes, take it dear. |