The Bedford Gazette

CORPORAL'S RETORT STORY.

THE VILLAGE PRIZE.

In one of the loveliest villages in old Virginia, there lived, in the year 175-, an old man, whose daughter was declared, by universal consent, to be the loveliest maiden in all the country around. The veteran, in his youth, had been athletic and muscular above all his fellows and his breast, where he always wore them, could show the adornment of three medals, received for his victories in gymnastic feats when a young man. His daughter was now eighteen, and had been sought in marriage by many suitors. One brought wealth—another a fine person—another this, another that. But they were all refused by the old man, who became at last a by-word for his obstinacy among the young men of the village and neighborhood.

At length the nineteenth birthday of Annette, his charming daughter, who was as amiable and modest as she was beautiful, arrived.—The morning of that day, her father invited all the youth of the country to a hay making frolic. Seventeen handsome and industrious young men assembled. They came not only to make hay, but also to make love to the fair Annette.

In three hours they had filled the father's barns with the newly dried grass, and their own hearts with love. Annette, by her father's command, had brought the malt liquor of her own brewing, which she presented to each enamored swain with her own fair hands.

"Now, my boys," said the old keeper of the jewel they all coveted, as leaning on their pitchforks, they all assembled round the door in the cool of the evening, "now, my lads, you have nearly all of you made proposals for my Annette. Now, you see, I don't care anything about money nor talents, book learning nor soldier learning. I can do as well by my gal as any man in the country. But I want her to marry a man of my own grit. Now, you know, or ought to know, when I was a youngster, I could beat anything in all Virginny in the way of leaping. I got my old woman by beating the smartest man on the Eastern Shore, and I have took the oath, and sworn it, that no man shall marry my daughter without jumping for her. You understand me, boys. There's the green, and here's Annette," he added, taking his daughter, who stood timidly behind him, by the hand. "Now, the one that jumps the farthest on a 'dead level,' shall marry Annette this very night."

This unique address was received by the young men with applause. And many a youth of trial cast a glance of anticipated victory back upon the lovely object of village chivalry.

The maidens left their looms and quilting frames. the children their noisy sports, the slaves their labors, and the old men their arm chairs and long pipes, to witness and triumph in the success of the victor. All prophesied and wished that it would be young Carroll. He was the handsomest and best humored youth in the country: and all knew that a strong mutual attachment existed between him and the fair. Annette. Carroll had won the reputation of being the "best leaper;" and in a country where such athletic achievements were the sine qua non of a man's cleverness, this was no ordinary honor.

The arena allotted for this hymeneal contest was a level space in front of the village inn, and near the centre of a grass plat, reserved in the midst of the village, denominated the "green." The verdure was quite worn off at this place by previous exercises of a similar kind, and a hard surface of sand, more befitting for which it was to be used, supplied its place.

The father of the lovely, blushing, and, withal, happy prize, (for she well knew who would win.) with three other patriarchal villagers, were the judges appointed to decide upon the claims of the several competitors. The last time Carroll tried his skill in this exercise, he "cleared," to use the leaper's phraseology. twenty-one feet and one inch.

The signal was given, and by lot the young men stepped into the arena.

"Edward Grayson, seventeen feet," cried one of the judges. The youth had done his utmost. He was a pale, intellectual student. But what had intellect to do in such an arena? Without a look at the maiden, he left the ground.

"Dick Boulden, nineteen feet!" Dick, with a laugh, turned away, and replaced his coat.

Harry Preston, nineteen feet and three inches. "Well done, Harry Preston!" cried the spectators, "you have tried hard for the acres and homestead." Harry also laughed, and swore he only jumped for the fun of the thing. Harry was a rattle-brain fellow, but never thought of matrimony, He loved to walk. and talk, and laugh, and romp with Annette. but sober marriage never came into his head. He only jumped for the fun of the thing. He would not have said so, if he were sure of winning.

"Charles Simms, fifteen feet and a half.—Hurra for Charley! Charley'll win" cried the crowd, good humoredly. Charley Simms was the cleverest fellow in the world. His mother advised him to stay at home. and told him if he ever won a wife, she would fall in love with his good temper rather than his legs. Charles, however, made the trial of the latter's capabilities and lost. Many refused to enter the list at all. Others made the trial, and only one of the leapers had yet cleared twenty feet.

"Now," cried the villagers, "let's see Henry Carroll. He ought to beat this," and every one appeared, as they called to mind the mutual love of the last competitor and the sweet Annette, as if they heartily wished his success.

Henry stepped to his post with a firm tread. His eye glanced with confidence around upon the villagers, and rested, before he bounded forward, upon the face of Annette, as if to catch therefrom that spirit and assurance which the occasion called for. Returning the encouraging glance with which she met his own, with a proud smile upon his lip he leaped forward.

"Twenty-one feet and a half," shouted the multitude. Repeating the announcement of one of the judges, "twenty-one feet and a half:—Henry Carroll forever, Annette and Harry!"

Hands, caps, and handkerchiefs waved over the heads of the spectators, and the eyes of the delighted Annette sparkled with joy.

When Henry Carroll moved to his station to strive for the prize, a tall, gentlemanly young man, in a military undress frock-coat, who had rode up to the inn, dismounted and joined the spectators, unperceived, while the contest was going on, stepped suddenly forward, and with a knowing eye measured deliberately the space accomplished by the last leaper. He was a stranger in the village. His handsome face and easy undress attracted the eyes of the village maidens, and his manly and sinewy frame, to which symmetry and strength were happily united, called forth the admiration of the young men.

"Mayhap, sir stranger, you think you can beat that?" said one of the by-standers, remarking the manner in which the eye of the stranger scanned the arena. "If you can leap beyond Henry Carroll, you'll beat the best man in the colonies."

The truth of this observation was assented to by a general murmur.

"Is it for mere amusement you are pursuing this pastime?" inquired the youthful stranger, "or is there a prize for the winner?"

Our village maidens is to be the reward of the victor," cried one of the judges.

"Is the list open to all?"

"All, young sir," replied the father of Annette, with interest, his youthful ardor rising as he surveyed the proportions of the straight limbed young stranger. "She is the bride of him who outleaps Henry Carroll. If you will try, you are free to do so. But, let me tell you Henry Carroll has no equal in Virginia. Here is my daughter, sir: look at her, and make your trial."

The officer glanced upon the trembling maiden about to be offered upon the altar of her father's monomania with an admiring eye. The poor girl looked at Harry, who stood near with a troubled brow and an angry eye, and then cast upon the new competitor an imploring glance.

Placing his coat in the hands of one of the judges, he drew a sash he wore beneath it tighter round his waist, and taking the appointed stand, made, apparently without effort, the bound that was to decide the happiness or misery of Henry and Annette.

"Twenty-two feet and an inch!" shouted the judge. The shout was repeated with surprise by the spectators, who crowded around the victor, filling the air with congratulations, not unmingled, however, with loud murmurs from those who were more nearly interested in the happiness of the lovers.

The old man approached, and grasping his hand exultingly, called him son, and said he felt prouder of him than if he were a prince.—Physical activity and strength were the old leaper's true patents of nobility.

Resuming his coat, the victor sought with his eye the prize he had, although nameless and unknown, so fairly won. She leaned upon her father's arm, pale and distressed.

Her lover stood aloof, gloomy and mortified, admiring the superiority of the stranger in an exercise in which he prided himself as unrivalled, while he hated him for his success.

"Annette, my pretty prize," said the victor, taking her passive hand, "I have won you fairly."

Annette's cheek became paler than marble: she clung to her father, while the drooping eye sought the form of her lover. His brow grew dark at the stranger's language.

"I have won you, my pretty flower, to make you a bride. Tremble not so violently—I mean not myself, however proud I ought to be," he added, with gallantry, "to wear so fair a gem next to my heart. Perhaps," and he cast his eyes inquiringly, while the current of life leaped joyfully to her brow, and a murmur of surprise ran through the crowd, "perhaps there is some favored youth among the crowd who has a higher claim to this jewel. Young sir," he continued, turning to the surprised Henry; "me thinks you were the victor on the list before me—I strove not for the maiden, though one could not well strive for a fairer—but from love for the manly sport in which I saw you engaged. You are the victor, and, as such, with the permission of this worthy assembly, you receive from my hand the prize you have so well and honorably won."

The youth sprang forward and grasped his hand with gratitude, and the next moment Annette was weeping for pure joy upon his shoulder. The welkin rang with the acclamations of the delighted villagers, and amid the temporary excitement produced by this act, the stranger withdrew from the crowd, mounted his horse, and spurred him at a brisk trot through the village.

That night Henry and Annette were married and the health of the mysterious and noble hearted stranger was drank in overflowing bumpers of rustic beverage.

In process of time, there were born unto the married pair sons and daughters, and Henry Carroll had become Colonel Henry Carroll of the Revolutionary army.

One evening, having just returned home after a hard campaign, as he was sitting with his family on the gallery of his handsome country house, an advance courier rode up and announced the approach of General Washington and suite informing him that he should crave his hospitality for the night. The necessary directions were given in reference to the household preparations, and Col. Carroll, ordering his horse, rode forward to meet and escort the distinguished guest; whom he had never yet seen, although serving in the same widely extended army.

That evening, at the table, Annette, now become the dignified, matronly, and still handsome Mrs. Carroll, could not keep her eyes from the face of her illustrious visitor. Every moment or two she would steal a glance at his commanding features, and half doubtingly, half assuredly shake her head and look again, to be still more puzzled. Her absence of mind and embarrassment at length became evident to her husband, who inquired affectionately, if she were ill.

"I suspect, Colonel," said the General, who had been some time, with a quiet meaning smile observing the lady's curious and puzzled survey of his features—“that Mrs. Carroll thinks she recognizes in me an old acquaintance." And he smiled with a mysterious air, as he gazed upon both alternately.

The Colonel started, and a faint memory of the past seemed to be revived as he gazed, while the lady rose impulsively from her chair and bending eagerly forward over the tea-urn, with clasped hands, and an eye of intense, eager inquiry, fixed full upon him, stood for a moment with her lips parted, as if she would speak.

"Pardon me, my dear madam, pardon me.—Colonel, I must put an end to this scene. I have become, by dint of campfare and hard usage, too gawieldy to leap again twenty-two feet and one inch, even for so fair a bride as one I wot of."

The recognition, with the surprise, delight and happiness that followed are left to the imagination of the reader.

General Washington was indeed the handsome young "leaper," whose mysterious appearance and disappearance in the native village of the lovers, is still traditionary—whose claim to a substantial bonafide flesh and blood was stoutly contested by the village story tellers, until the happy denouement which took place at the hospitable mansion of Colonel Carroll.