Sentinel of the valley. [volume] (Woodstock, Va) 1841-1848, 1846-02-26

Fora moment that farmer tired to
speak the horror that conyulsed his
features. Is l7a6 u4ssF a iisgs
AT last. forcing the blacksmith along
the brown graveIled walk, now strewn
with cinders, he pointed to the smoking
embers.s There, there-amid that heap
of black and smoking ruins, the black
smith beheld dark mass of burnt flesh
and blackened bones. aasl a. CIV
tYour acite!' shrieked the farmer, as
his agony found words: 'The British,
they came in the night, they'--and
then he spoke,that outrage which the
lip quivered to think On, which the
heart grows palsied 10 tell-that,, out
rage too foul to name--'Your wife, he
shrieked, poinling to that hideous thing,
amid the smoking ruins; sthe British
they murdered your wife; they flung her
dead body in the they dashed
your child against the heartLstone!''
This was the farmers story. :-si.l
And there, as the light of the break
ing day fell around the spot, there
stood the husband, the father, gazing
upon that mass offlesh and bleachened
bones-.althat vas once has aeJe!
Do you ask forthe words that trem-
bled from his white lips? Do you ask me
for the fire that blazed in his eye? sd.
| cannot tell you. But ! can tell you
that there was vow going up to Hea-
ven from that blacksmith's heart; that
there was clinched hand, appraised in
the breaking day! 81 90
Yes, yes, as, the FIRST CLEAN of autumn
nal dawn broke around the spot, as the
first long CLEAN Of sunlight streamed
over the pealed skull nfthat fair young
wife-she was that last night there
was VOW going up 10 Heaven, the
vow Of a maddened heart and anguish :.
ed BRAIN. 81
How was that vow kept? Go there
to Brandywine and where the carnage
gathers tnickests; where the fight is
most bloody, there you may see stout
form, striding on, lifting huge ham
mer into light. Where that hammer
falls, it kills-Nhere that hammer
strikes, it crushes! It is the black
smiths form. And what's the warcry
that he shoutse Is it a mad cry of ven
geance-half, how, half hurrahs Is it
but fierce yell, breaking up from his
heaving chest?
All no! All no!
1t is the name of-MARY!! It is the
name,ofhis young wife!
Oh, Mary-sweetest name of wo-
man-name SO soft, SO ripping, so
musical--name of the mother of Jesus
made holy by poetry and religion-how
strange did your syllables of music ring
out from that blacksmith's lips, as he
went numbering on!
sMay!' he shouts, as he drags that
relocated trooper from his steed,
'Mary' he shrieks, ashis hammer crushes
down, laying that officer, 10 the dust.
Look! Another officer, with a gallant
face and form-anDther officer glitter
ing in tinsel, clasps. that blacksmith by
the knees, and begs mercy.
.sa 4 have wife mercy! / have a
wife yonder in England-spare me!'
The Blacksmith, crazed as he is,
trembles, there is tear in his eye.
4 would spare you, but there is a
form before me-the form of my dead
wife! That form has gone before me
all day! She calls on me to strikep
The hammer fell, and then rang out
that strange warcry--'MARYp 9i5f
AT last, when the battle was over,
he was found bya WAGNER, who had
at least shouldered a cart-whip in his
country service-he was found Sitting
by the road-side, his head sunken, his
leg broken the life-blood welterinp
from his many wounds. :
The WAGNER would have carried him
from the field but the stout blacksmith
refused. ~ ''.' hsl
you see, neighbor,' he said, in that
voice husky with death, i never med
died with the British till they burned
my home, till they he could not
speak the outrage, but his. wife,. his
child, were there before his dying eyes
-sand now I've but five minutes life
sinme. I'D like tog give a shot at the
British afore I die. Dye see that
cherry tree? Place me thar; give me a
powder horn, three rifle balls an a
good rifle; that's all ask.
The WAGNER granted his request;
he lifted him 10 the foot of the cherry
tree; he placed the rifle, the balls and
the powder-horn in:his grasp III
Then whipping his horses through
the narrow pass, fom The summit of