American Republican and Baltimore daily clipper. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1844-1846, 1846-04-08
From the Saturday Courierl
MECHANIC HERO OF THE BRAN
DIVINE.
BY GEORGE LIPpARp, ESQ.

BY GEORGE LlPPARD, ESQ.
zear Dilworth Corner, at the time ofthe Re-
zion, there stood quiet cottage, somewhat
lid from the road, under the shades Of a
/ chestnut tree. 1t was a quiet cottage,
ing away there in one corner Of the forest
drear home in the wilderness, with slop-
oof, walls in dark grey stones, and a case
i hidden among vines and flowers.
a one side, amid an interval Of the forest
"a, was seen a rough outline of a black
1 as shop. There was garden in front,
brown gravelled walk, and bed of wild
bers.
Fere at the time of the Revolution, there
Ut blacksmith, his young wife and her
h. What cared that blacksmith, working
" there in that shadowy nook of the forest,
zkar? What feared he for the peril of the
is SO long as his strong arm, ringing that
tmer on the anvil, might gain bread for his
q and child?
Ih, he cared little for war, he took little
y of the panic that shook the valley, when
BE few mornings before the battle of the
] hdywine, while shoeing the horse of Tory
hgee, he ovarhead plot for the surprise
capture of Washington. The American
Ter was to be lured into the tolls of the To-
his person once IN the British camp, the
tlish general might send the "traitor"
shington home, to be tried in London
ow our blacksmith working away there in
dim nook of the forest, without caring for
lie or war, had still a speaking kindness for
Mister Washinton, whose name rung on
lips of all men. So one night, bidding his
M =, 10 n baety rood bve and kicsinr Tho
e that reposed on her bosom, smiling as it
BIT, he hurried away to the American camp,
told his story to Washington.
ID was morning ere he came back. 1t was
The dimness of the autumnal morning, that
| blacksmith was plodding his way along the
Est road. Some few PAGES ahead there was
aged oak standing out into the road--a grim
veteran of the forest, that had stood the
bcks of three hundred years. Right beyond
Et oak was the blacksmith's home.
with this thought warming his heart, he
H'red on. Hurried on, thinking Of the calm
lng face, and mild blue eyes of that wife
O, the night before had stood in the cottage
pr, waving him out of sight with beekoneC
BID bye-thinking of the baby that lay smil.
as it slept upon her bosom he turned the
EJu vi Tic WOOu, Ht lOOh0u upOu lllS HOliO'
Alb! what sight was there!
Where, the night before he had left peace.
cottage, smiling under a green chestnut
| e, in the light of the setting sun, there was
DIV heap of black smoking embers and Q
rnt and blasted tree!
This was his home!
And there stood the blacksmith gazing upor
lat wreck of his hearth stone-there he stood
tn folded arms and moody brow, but in :
|bment smile came over his face.
He saw it all In the night his home hat
ken fire and had burnt to cinders. But hi
| fe, his child, had escaped. For that he thank
God.
With the toll Of his stout arm, plying there
| the anvil, he would build fairer home fol
Is wife and child; fresh flowers should bloom
er the garden walls, and more lively vine
bill along the easement.
With this resolve kindling over his face, the
|acksmith stood there, with a cheerful ligh
kaming from his large grey eyes, when;
! md was laid upon his shoulder.
! He turned and beheld the face of neighbor
| 1t was a neighbours face, but there was an
|wful agony stamping those plain features
here was an awful agony flashing from thos'
Hating eyes-there was dark and terrible
| ystery speaking from those thin lips, tina
hoved and moved, but made 10 sound.
For moment that farmer tried to speak thu
|orror that convulsed his features.
At last, forcing the blacksmith along th'
fown gravelled walk, now srewn with Gin
ers, he pointed to the smoking embers. There
bere-amid that heap of black and smoking
Al .aI. L l.. -
|urnt flesh and blackened bones.
Your ,oifen shrieked the farmer, as his ago
" found words. The British they came il
be aight they'-and then he spoke tina
|utrage, which the lip quivers to think on
hich the heart grows palsied to tell-tha
utrage too foul to name. Your wife, h
hreked, pointing to that hideous thing, ami
he smoking ruins; 'the British have MURDERS
our wife, they flung her dead body in tn
|ames-they dashed your child against tn
earth stone!'
This was the farmers story.