During the battle of Hanging Rock, which occurred the next week, Esther might be seen at Waxhaw church, which was converted for the time into a hospital, administering to the wants of the wounded.

As kind as patriotic, with her hands filled with soothing cordials, she was seen, through all her life, knocking at the door of suffering humanity.

REMARKABLE PRESENCE OF MIND AND SELF-POSSESSION.

Were I the monarch of the earth,
And master of the swelling sea,
I would not estimate their worth,
Dear woman, half the price of thee.

GEO. P. MORRIS.

Mr. Ralph Izard, a true "liberty man," resided, during the struggle for Independence, near Dorchester, in South Carolina. He was for awhile aid-decamp to the commander of the Light Troops, and was an especial object of British hatred. On one occasion, while at home, he came very near falling into the hands of the enemy. A number of British soldiers surrounded his house, and on discovering them he hid himself in the clothes-press. They were confident he was in the house, and having instituted a thorough but ineffectual search, threatened to burn the building, unless his wife would point out his place of concealment. She adroitly evaded answering directly all queries respecting his quarters. They next robbed his wardrobe; seized all the better articles they could find in the house, and even tried to force off her finger-rings. She

still remained composed and courageous, yet courteous and urbane, knowing that much, every thing, in fact, depended on her self-control. Her calmness and apparent unconcern led the marauders to conclude that they had been misled in supposing Mr. Izard was in the house; and at length they departed. He then sprang from his covert, and, rushing out by a back door, crossed the Ashley river and notified the Americans on the opposite side, of the state of things.

Meantime, the ruffians returned to the house, and, strange to say, went directly to the clothes-press. Again disappointed, they retired; but they were soon met by a body of cavalry, handsomely whipped, and all the fine articles belonging to Mr. Izard's wardrobe and house were restored.

THE WIFE OF GOVERNOR GRISWOLD.

Happy the man, and happy sure he was,

So wedded.

HURDIS.

The residence of the first Governor of Connecticut, was at Blackhall, near Long Island Sound. While British ships were lying at anchor in these waters on a certain occasion, a party of marines in pursuit of his Excellency, presented themselves at the door. It being impossible for him to escape by flight, his affectionate and thoughtful wife secreted him in a large new meat barrel or tierce- for although he was somewhat corpulent, he could not vie in physical rotundity with the early and honored Knickerbocker magistrates. He was cleverly packed away in the future home of doomed porkers, just as the soldiers entered and commenced their search. Not finding him readily, they asked his quick-witted wife one or two hard questions, but received no very enlightening answer. The Legislature had convened a day or two before at Hartford, and she intimated that he was or ought to be at the capital. Unsuccessful in their search, the soldiers took their boat and returned to the ship. Before they had reached the latter, his unpacked Honor was on a swift steed, galloping to Gubernatorial head-quarters.

BOLD EXPLOIT OF A YOUNG GIRL.

Some god impels with courage not thy own.

POPE'S HOMER.

Robert Gibbes was the owner of a splendid mansion on John's Island, a few miles from Charleston, South Carolina, known, during the Revolution, as the "Peaceful Retreat." On his plantation the British encamped on a certain occasion; and the American authorities sent two galleys up the Stono river, on which the mansion stood, to dislodge them. Strict injunctions had been given to the men not to fire on the house, but Mr. Gibbes not being aware of this fact, when the firing commenced, thought it advisable to take his family to some remote place for shelter. They accordingly started in a cold and drizzly rain and in a direction ranging with the fire of the American guns. Shot struck the trees and cut the bushes beside their path for some distance. When about a mile from the mansion, and out of danger, reaching the huts occupied by the negroes on the plantation, Mrs. Gibbes, being chilled and exhausted, was obliged to lie down. Here, when they supposed all were safe, and began to rejoice over their fortunate escape, to their great astonishment, they discovered that a boy named Fenwick, a member of the family, had