Spirit of the age. [volume] (Woodstock, Vt.) 1845-1913, 1847-01-14

,
was now without commission; The latte
commanded, alone, and now would hav
to win glory for himself with his owl
hands.
Gates was sad and thoughtful, as in al
the array of his uniform he stood before hi
tent, watching the evolutions Of the ar
mics, but all at once smoke arose,
thunder shook the ground, chorus o
shouts and groans yelled along the darken
ed air, The play ofdeath was begun
The two hags-lhis Of Stars, that of thu
Red Cross--tossed amid the smoke o
battle, while the sky was clouded il
leaden folds, and the earth throbbed as
with the pusaion of a mighty heart.
Suddenly, Gates and his officers started
with surprise. Along the gentle heigh
on which they stood, there came war
rior on Black Horse, rushing TOWARD
the distant battle. There was something
in the appearance of this horse and rider
to strike them with surprise. The horse
was a noble animal; do you mark tha
expanse of chest, those slender yet sinewy
limbs, that waving name and tail' DO
you mark the head erect, those nostril:
quiyering, that eye glazing with terrible
hight? Then his coor-the raven is moi
darker than his skin, or a maiden's cheek
more glossy than his spotess hide.
Look upon that gallant steed, and re-
member the words Of job
Hast thou given the horse strength!
hast thou clothed his neck with thunder?
Cans't thou make him afraid as grass =
hopper, The glory Of his nos,rils is ter
rible!
He paweth in the valley and rejoiceth
in his strength; he goclh on to meet the
armed men,
He mocketh at fear and is not alright
ed neither turne,h he back from the
sword.
The culver raltleth against him, the
gliterng spear and the shield.
He swalloweth the ground with for
ceness and rage; neither beieveth he
that it is the sound of the trumpet.
lie saith among the trumpets, Ila! hal!
and ne smclIeth the battle alar off, the
thunder of the captains and the shouting.
But the rider presents also sight of
strange and peculiar form, with dark
brow gathered in lrown, darker eye,
shooting its glance from beneath the pro-
jecting forehead. His lip is compressed
his cravat, unloosened, exposes the
veins of his barred throat, now writing
like serpenls. 1t is plain that his spirit
is with the distant battle, for neither look.
ing to the right or left, not even casting
glance aside to Gates, he gIares over
his horses head toward the smoke of con-
aict.
No sword waves in his grasp, but while
the rein hangs on his horses neck, his
hands rest by his side, the fingers culver
ing with the same agitation that bazes
over his face.
Altogether it is magnificent sight,
that warrior in the blue uniform on his
Black Horse, who moves along the sod
at brisk pace, his tail and name tossing
on the breeze. And as the noble horse
moves on, the soldier speaks to him, and
calls him by name, and lays his right
hand on his glossy neck.
"Ho! Warren-lorward"
Then that Black Horse--named after
tho friend of the soldier, friend who
now is sleeping near Bunker Hill, where
he fell-darls forward, with one sudden
bound, and is gone like flash toward
the distant battle.
This brief scene, this vision of the
horse and his rider, struck Gates with
unfeigned chagrin, and his officers with
unmingled surprise.
armstrong;" shouted Gates, turning
to brave man by his side, pursue that
mani Tell him it is my command that
he returns from the field. Away! DO
not lose minute, for he will do someth-
ing rash if left to himse!l!'
Armstrong springs to his sleed, and
while the heaven above, and the broad
sweeps of woods and fields yonder are
darkened by the smoke OF conflict, he
pursues the black horse and his rider.
But that rider looks over his shoulders
with a smile of scorn on his lip, scowl
of defiance on his brow. Look He
draws his sword-the sharp blade quivers
in the air. He points to the battle, and
10! he is gone-gone through yonder
clouds-.whle his shouts echoe over the
fields.
Wherever the fight is thickest, through
the intervals Of battle smoke and cannon
glare, you may see, riding madly forward
that strange soldier, mounted on his steed
black as death.
Look at him, as with his face red with
British blood, he wavcr his sword, and
shouts TO the legions. Now you see him
fighting in that cannon's glare, the next
moment he is away ofyonder, leading the
forlorn hope up the steep cliff. ...
Is it not magnificent sight, to see
that namelss soldier, and that noble black
steed, dashing like meteor through the
long columns of battle.
And all the while, Major Armstrong,
squirting his steed to the utmost, pursues
him, but in vain. lie shouts to him, but
the warrior cannot hear He can see
the black horse through the lifted folds of
battle smoke, now and then he hears the