American Republican and Baltimore daily clipper. [volume] (Baltimore, Md.) 1844-1846, 1846-08-21

Neutrality-suspicious.. Look how the red tokens
crimson the white snow?-following those bloc.
dy footpIints-go on until they reach that rock
beetling over the river shore.
There the lantern light flashes over the form
Of a half.naked man, crouchiDg down in the
snow-freezing and bleeding to death.
The old man looks upon that form, clad in
the ragged uniform of the continental army
the stiffened fingers grasping the battered mus
ket. 1t was his only son.
He called to him-the younggirl knelt-You
may be sure there were tears in her eyes
chafed her brothers. hands; ah! they were stiff
and cold! And when she could not warm
them, gathered them TO her young bosom, and
wept her tears in his dying face.
Suddenly that brother raised his head--he
extended his hand towards the river.
"LooK THERE, FATHER" he said, in his
husky voice.
And bending down over the rock, the old
man looked far oyer unto the river. There,
under the dark sky, q fleet Of boats were tossing
amid piles Of floating ice. A feet of boats
bearing men and arms, and extending in ire
gulaT lines from shore to shore. And the last
boat of the feet-that boat just leaving the
western shore Of the Deaware-the old man
saw that too, and saw-even through the dark
ness-yon tall iorm-half muffied in warrior s
cloak, with grey war-hofse by his side.
Was not that strange sight to see at the
dead of night, on dark river, under dark
skye
The old man turned to his dying son to ask
the meaning of this mystery.
"Father," gasped the brave boy, totterng to
his feet. "Father, give me my musket, for to-
night, for to-night"-
AS that word was on his lips, he fell He
fell and lay there, stiff and cold. Still on his
| lips there hung some family spoken Words
The old man; that fair girl; bent down they
listened to those words:
"To-night; Washington; the British; to-
| night; TRENTON"
And with the words gasping on his lips,
''Trenton!" he died
The old man did not know the meaning of
| that word until the next morning. Then there
was the sound of musketry 10 the south; then,
booming along the Delaware, came tie roar of
battle. Then that old man, with his wife and
children, gathering around the body of that
dead boy, knew the meaning of that single
word that had trembled on his lips-knew that
George Washington had burst like thunder
bolt upon the British camp at Trenton.
All! there was a merry Christmas party
which the British officers kept in the town of
Trenton sixtynine years ago-although it is
true, that to that party there came an unin-
vited guest, ono Mister Washington, his half
clad army, and certain bold Jerseymen!
Would that l might linger here and picture
the great deeds Of that morning, sixty-nine
years ago. Would that might linger here
upon the holy ground of TRENToN-for it is
holy ground. For it was here, in the darkest
hour of the revolution, that George Washing
ton made one stout and gallant blow in the
name of that declaration, which fifty-six bold
men had proclaimed in the old state house of
Philadelphia six months before. Then, if that
state house is the Mecca of freedom, to which
the pilgrims ofall climes may come to worship,
then is the battle-ground of Trenton the twin
Mecca-the Jerusalem of freedom-to which
the children of liberty, from every cline, may
come-look upon the footsteps Of the mighty
dead-bhng their offerings-shed their tears.
December 26th, l776!-
1t was a dark night; but the first CLEAN of
morning shone over the form of George Wash
ington, as he stood beside the Hessian leader,
Ralle, who lay in yonder room, wrestling with
death. Yes, Washington stood there, and
placed the cup of water to his feverish lips,
and spoke prayer for his passing soul
1t was dark night, but the CLEAN Of morn
ing shone over yon cliff darkening above the
wintry river, over the frozen snow, where a
father, wife, band of children, clustered
around the cold form of a dead child. He was
clad in rags; but there was grim smile on his
white lips-his frozen hand still clenched with
an iron grasp the broken rife. His face, SO
cold, SO pale, was wet with his sisters tears
but his soul has gone to yonder heaven, there
to join the martyrs of Trenton and Bunker
Hill.