Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1846-01-29

MaryP p he shouts, as he drags that red
coated trooper from his steed " Mary ! ne
shrieks. as his hammer brushes down, laying
that officer in the dust. Look Another officer
with a gallant face and form-another ofhcerl
glittering il. tinsel, clasps that blacksmith Oy the
knees and begs for mercy.
al have a wife-mercy l have a wife yon-
der in England-spare mel
The blacksmith, crazed as he is, trembles-
there is a tear in his eye.
81 would spare you, but there is a form be-
fore me the form OF my dead wife! That form
has gone before me all day She calls on ME to
strike p
And the hammer fell, and then rang out that
strange war-cry-' MARY"
At last, when the battle was over, he was
found by a wagner, who had at least shouldered
a cart-whip in his %countSy's servicc-he was
found sitting by the roadside, his head sunken,
his leo b~roken-the life-blood yelling from his
many wounds.
The wagner would have carried him from
the field, but the stout blacksmith refused.
"You see, neighbor," he said, in that voice
husky with death, 81 never meddled with the
British till they buried my home, till they"-he
could not speak the outrage, but his wife, his
child, were there before his dying eyes" And
now I've but FIVE minutes life i'll me. I'd like
to give a shot at the British afore | die. Dye
see that cherry tree Dye think you could
drag a man of my build up thar Place me
there give me a powder horn, three rifle balls
an a good rife that's all | ask"
The wagner granted his request he lifted
him to the foot of the cherry tree he placed
the rifle, the balls, the powder horn in his grasp.
Then whipping bis horse through the narrow
pass, from the summit Of neighboring height,
he looked down upon the last scene ofthe black
smiths life.
There lay the stout man at the foot of the
cherry tree, his head sunk, his broken leg hang
ing over the roadside bank. The blood was
streaming from his wounds-he was dying.
Suddenly he raise his head--a sound struck
on his ears, A party of British Came rushing
along the narrow road, mad with carnage and
~thirsting for blood. They pursued a scattered
band of Continentals, An officer led the way
waving them on with his sword.
The blacksmith loaded lis rifle with that eye
bright with death he took the aim. "That's
for Washington ~ he shouted as he fired. The
officer lay %quiyering in the roadside dust. On
and on came the British, nearer and nearer to
the cherry lrce-the Continentals swept through
the pass. Again the blacksmith loaded-again
he fired. "That's for mad Antony Wayne!' he
shouted, as another officer bit the Sod,
The British now came rushing to the cherry
tree, determined to cut down the wounded man
who with his face toward them, bleeding as he
was, dealt death among their ranks. A fair
visaged officer, with golden hair waving on the
wind, led them on.
The blacksmith raised his rifle with that
hand s%tifFening in death he took his aim-he fir.
ed-the young Briton fell with a sudden Shrek.
"And that" cried the blacksmith, in a voice
that strengthened into a shout, and that's for
His voice was gone! The shrek died on his
white lips.
His head sunk-his rifle fell.
Asingle word dubbed up with his death groan
Even now methinks | hear that word echoing
and trembling there among the rocks of Brandy
wine. That word was-MARY!