MONTICELLO, MISSISSIPPI, MARCH 21, 1916.
{"newspaper_name": "The Southern journal.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
{"character_count": 1165, "word_count": 204, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9329000115394592], "ccnet_perplexity": [1560.199951171875], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
say prayer for me, and let me feel
your warm breath upon my face, for
am getting cold-O, dark and coldr'
Look!-As those trembling accents
fall from the old mans tongue. those
fingers unloose their hold from the ri.
fle- already the troopers are secure
Of one victim at least,a a young and
beautiful girl; for affection for her ia.
ther, is mastering the heroism of the
moment-look! She is about TO spring
into his arms! But now she sees her
danger-again she clutches the rifle: j:
again-although her fathers dying
accents are in her ears-stands there
prepared to scatter that house ia ruins,
if a single rough hand assails that vet
eran form.


There are a few brief terrible mo.
ments of suspense. Then a hurried
sound, far down the mansion; then a
contest on the stairs; then the echo of
rifle shot and the light of rifle blaze
then those ruffians in the doorway fall
crushed before the strong arms of
Continental soldiers. Then wild
shrek quivers through the room, and



that young girl, that Hero Woman,
with one bound, springs forward into
her brothers. arms, and nestles there,
while her dead father-his form yet
warm-lays with fixed eyeballs upon
the floor.