8
THE BATTALION.
But there are other scenes. The secret marriage, the an
guish of waiting and expectancy so faithfully portrayed by
Shakespeare, Romeo scaling the wall to his true love, and
the parting and grief of the morning, the fierce fight between
members of the rival houses, the death of Tybalt, the flight
of Romeo, the induced trance of Juliet, the tragic death of
Paris and the lovers, cannot be better described than in the
play itself and for the present I have not further time for de
tailed comment or enology.
E. M. Overshiner.
TJ?e It)t) at ^ai>toaJics.
It was one of those soft autumnal days that give to the
skies on the coast of South Carolina the glowing and melting
tones of the Italian Campagna. The woods were flecked
with the many tints that belong to the season. Only the live-
oaks and the roadside hedges of the Cherokee rose kept their
uniform hue of green. There were no growing crops in view.
The siege of Charleston by Green’s army had been too recent
to allow of any husbandry so near the beleaguered city.
But the British force in the city had surrendered and mar
ched out to their ships in the harbor, and men were now free
to come and go on the roads that stretched away through a
broken and desolate land. This was the old road that led to
Savannah, a road over which many armies had passed to and
fro during the long war now just ended.
It was seldom that any ventured to travel it alone, for the
country was still disturbed. There were ruined men on the
winning side, whose negroes had been run off to St. Augus
tine and sold there, men who were almost ready to turn high
wayman. There were broken loyalists, who had carried it
with a high hand while the British ruled the state, but their
lands were now confiscated, and they had not taken their
opportunity to leave the American shores with the King’s