To Him, who formed yon glorious sky, This green enameled sod, The Christian trusts his future home— His architect—is God. * * * * * [Illustration: COL. WASHINGTON AT THE BATTLE OF COWPENS. Engraved Expressly for Graham’s Magazine by S. H. Gimber] * * * * * THE YOUNG DRAGOON. A STORY OF THE COWPENS. BY CHARLES J. PETERSON. [SEE ENGRAVING.] CHAPTER I. There is a thing—there is a thing, I fain would have from thee; I fain would have that gay, gold ring. THE SPECTRE LADY. The period of our revolutionary history immediately succeeding the defeat at Camden, is still remembered in the Carolinas with horror. The British, elated with their success, and regarding the South as now their own, proceeded in the work of confiscation and massacre with pitiless severity. In that terrible crisis many a family was deprived of its head either by exile or by execution. Yet larger numbers were shorn of their property and reduced to comparative indigence. In a word, terror reigned paramount. But the common events of life still went on. The transactions of business, the struggle for wealth, the toils of the husbandman, births, deaths, marriages, cares, hopes, fears—all followed each other down the deep current of existence, almost wholly unaffected by the storm of war which agitated the surface. It is an error to suppose that great convulsions disturb the whole order of society. Men will still hate, though the entire nation be turned into a camp; will still strive for the dross of earth; will still, if young and generous, risk their heart’s happiness in love. It was toward the close of a winter evening that a youth of noble mien and handsome face stood at the foot of one of those long avenues of trees, which, in South Carolina, lead up from the road to the mansions of the wealthier proprietors. For nearly half an hour he had been there, as if awaiting the approach of some one from the house: now looking anxiously up the long avenue, now restlessly walking to and fro. During that interval but one person had passed along the highway, and the notice of this one the youth had skillfully avoided by concealing himself behind some dwarf trees within the plantation-fence. This act, as well as his whole demeanor, proved that he was awaiting some secret interview. At last, just when the dusk began to deepen into night, the flutter of a white dress was seen coming down the avenue. A minute more, and a beautiful girl of eighteen summers appeared on the scene.