There is an incident of a most romantic and touching nature, connected with the history of the brave Sergeant Jasper, of Marion's brigade. A young girl, in this instance, followed the fortunes of war, not out of patriotic motives, like those which inspired Deborah Sampson, but impelled by a love which no wildest romance of the olden time can more than match. The page who drew the poison from her lover's wound, on the distant plains of the Holy Land, proved not so devoted as this young American girl, throwing her tender bosom between Jasper's heart and death. [Illustration: Deborah Sampson, the Maiden Warrior. ] Sergeant Jasper was one of the bravest of Marion's men, possessing remarkable talents as a scout, and often chosen for such expeditions. He was one of those of whom Bryant says: "Our band is few, but true and tried, Our leader frank and bold; The British soldier trembles When Marion's name is told. Our fortress is the good greenwood, Our tent the cypress tree; We know the forest 'round us, As seamen know the sea. We know its walls of thorny vines, Its glades of reedy grass, Its safe and silent islands Within the dark morass." Sometime just before, or about the beginning of the war, Jasper had the good fortune to save the life of a young, beautiful, and dark-eyed Creole girl, called Sally St. Clair. Her susceptible nature was overcome with gratitude to her preserver, and this soon ripened into a passion of love, of the most deep and fervent kind. She lavished upon him the whole wealth of her affections, and the whole depths of a passion nurtured by a Southern sun. When he was called upon to join the ranks of his country's defenders, the prospect of their separation almost maddened her. Their parting came, but scarcely was she left alone, ere her romantic nature prompted the means of a reunion. Once resolved, no consideration of danger could dampen her spirit, and no thought of consequences could move her purpose. She severed her long and jetty ringlets, and provided herself with male attire. In these she robed herself, and set forth to follow the fortunes of her lover. A smooth-faced, beautiful and delicate stripling appeared among the hardy, rough and giant frames who composed the corps to which Jasper belonged. The contrast between the stripling and these men, in their uncouth garbs, their massive faces, embrowned and discolored by sun and rain, was indeed striking. But none were more eager for the battle, or so indifferent to fatigue, as the fair-faced boy. It was found that his energy of character, resolution and courage amply supplied his lack of physique. None ever suspected him to be a woman. Not even Jasper himself, although she was often by his side, penetrated her disguise.