The Kalida venture. [volume] (Kalida, Ohio) 1841-1865, 1847-01-15
From the Philadelphia Saturday Courier.
LEGENDS OF THE REVOLUTION,
BY ononen LfrrARD---New Serios.
m ~ a q NJ - Eaa +
r o A 5 n IL.

Ks I
Br ononen LfrrARD--New Series.
r I'LL A XXI.
1t was At the battle Of Brandywino thai
Count Pulaski appeared in all bis glory,
Az he rode, charging ilore, into the thick.
est Of the battle, he was 4 warricr TO look
upon but once, aud nsve, forget.
Moanted on large black horse, whose
sireneth and beauty Of shape made YOU for.
got The plainnsss Of bis caparison, Pulaski
Himself, with fern six feet in beiRhi,. mas
Isivs chest and limbs Of iron, wss aitired in q
whito uniform, that was ssen from afar, re-
llisved by the black clouds Of battle. His
face, Rrini with the scars Of Poland, was the
4 face Of man wAo had seen much trouble,
snaursd mucl, wrong. II was siamped with
an expression Of abiding melancholy
Bronzed in hue, lighted by large, dark eyes,
with the lip darkened by thick mousiache,
his throat and chin were covered with a
heavy beard, while his hair fell in raven mass
| es, from hcnesth bis troopers cap, shielded
with a ridge OF gIittering steel. His hair
and beard were OF the same hue.
The sword that hung BY bis side, fashion
ed of tempered steel, with ahltof iron, was
one that a warrior alone could lift.
II was in this array he rode to battle, fol-
lowed by band Of three hundred men,
whose faces, burnt with the scorching Of a
tropical sun, or hardened by northern SHOWS,
bore the scars ofmamy battle. They were
mostly Europeans; some Germans, some
Polanders, some dessrters from the British
army. These were the men TO fight. To
be taken BY the British would be death, and
death on the gibbet; therefore they fought
their best and fought to the last gasp, rather
than mnttera word about " quarter"
When they charged 4 was as one man,
their three hundred swords flashing over
their heads, against the clouds OF battle
They cans down upon the enemy in terrible
silence, without word spoken, not even a
whisper. You could hear the tramp Of their
stesds, you could hear the rattling Of their
scabbards, but that was all.
Yet when they closed with the British yeu
could hear noise, like the echo Of hun
dred hammers, beating ,he hot iron on the
aavll. You could see Pulaski himself, rid
I ing yonder in his white uniform, his black
stsed rearing aloft, as turning his head over
his shoulder he spoke to his men:
"Forwsrds, Brudsra, forvsrts!"
II was but bsoken German, yet they un-
derstood il, those three hundred men Of sun
burnt face, wounds and gashes. With one
burst they crashed upon The enemy. For
few moments they Used their swords, and
then the ground was covered with dead,
while the living enemy scattered in panic
before their path.
Il was on this battle-day Of Brandywine
that tho Count was in his glory. He under.
stood but little English, SO he spake what ha
had to say with the edge Of his sword. 1t
was severe Lexicon, but the British soon
learned to read il, and to know it, and fear
+ it. All over the 6sld, from yonder Quaker
meeting g-house away TO the top Of Osburne's
Hill, the soldiers OF the enemy saw Pulaski
come, and learned 10 know his name by
heart.
/ That white uniform, that bronzed vsage,
thai black horse with burning eye and quyer-
ing nostrls, they knew the warrior well;
they trembled when they heard him say:
/" Forwarts, Brudern, forwarts!'
/ u
the Polander was most terrible. II was
when the men of Sullivan---badly armed,
poorly fed, shabbily clad---gave way, step by
step, before the overwhelming discipline Of
the British host, that Pulaski locked like a
bat,le-6end, mounted on his demon-steed.
His cap had fallen from his brow. His
barred head shone in an occasional sunbeam,
or grew crimson with fash from the cannon
or rife. His white uniform was rent and
stained; in fact, from head to foot, he was
covered with dust and blood.
Still his right arm was free--still il rose
there, execsting British hireling, when i,
fell---still his voice was heard, hoarse and
husky, but strong in its every tone" For
warts, Brudern!' 3
He behsld the division Of Sullivan ietreat-
ing from the field; he saw the British yonder,
stripping their coats from their backs in the
madneas ofpursuit. He locked to the South,
for Washington, who, with the reserve, under
Greene, was hurrying TO the rescue, but the
American Chiefwss not in view.
Then Pulaski was convulsed with rage.
He rode madly upon The bayonets Of the
pursuing British, his sword gathering victim
after victim; even there, in front of their
whole army, he Hung his steed across the
path fihe retreating Americans, he besought
them, In his broken English, 10 turn, 10 make
one more effort; he shouted in hoarse tones
that ,hc day was not yet lost!
They did not understand his words, but
the tones in which hs spoke thrilled their
blood.
That picture, too, standing out from the
clouds Of battlc---a warrior, convulsed with
passion, covered with blood, leaning overihe
neck Of his steed, while his eyes seem1d