Southern sentinel. [volume] (Plaquemine, Parish of Iberville [La.]) 1848-1858, 1850-12-21
An Incident at the Battle of Brandy
wine,

The hero ofthe following thrilling story wa
a stout blacksmith--ay, an humble blacksmith
bnt his stout frame, hardened by toll, throbbe
with as generous an impulse of freedom a
ever beat in the bosom Of Lafayette, o
throbbed around the heart of Mad Anthem
Wayne.
1t was in the full tide of the retreat, that
follower of the American camp, who had a
| least shouldered a cart-Whip in his country
service, was driving a baggage-wagon from tht
battlefield while some short distance behind
a body OF continentals were rushing forward
with troop of British in close pursuit.
The wagon had arrived at narrow point o1
the by-road leading to the south, where two
high banks of rocks and crag arising on either
side, afording space inst sufficient for the pas.
| sage of the wagon, and not an inch more.
His eye was arrested by the sight of stout,
| muscular man, of some forty years ofage, exten-
ded at the foot o6a tree, at the very opening
of the pass. He was clad in the coarse attire
Of a mechanic. His coat had been flung aside,
and with the shirt sleeves rolled up from his
muscular arm, he lay extended ON the turf, with
his rifle in his grasp, while the blood streamed
in torrent from his right leg, broken at the
knee by cannon ball.
FSThe wagoner's sympathies were arrested by
the sight, he would have paused in the very
instant of his flight, and placed the wounded
blacksmith in his wagon, but the stout hearted
mechanic refused.
all not get into your wagon, he exclaimed,
his rough way, "but I'll tell you what will
do. Do you see yonder cherry tree on the top
of that rock that hangs over the road! Do you
think you could lift man of my build up
there? For, you see, neighbor, he continued
while the blood flowed from the wound, 81
never meddled with the Britishers until they
came trampling over thi, valley, and burned
my house down. And now I'm all riddled to
pieces, and haint got no more than fifteen
minutes life; but I've got three balls in my
aud so just prop me up against
that cherry-tree, and III give 'em the whole
three shots and then," exclaimed the black
smith, "and then I'll die %
The WAGNER started his horses ahead, and
then with sudden effort of strength, dragged
the blacksmith along the soil to the foot Of the
cherry tree surrounding the rock, by the road
side.
In moment his back was propped against
the tree, his face was to the advancing troopers,
and while his shattered leg hung over the
bank, the WAGNER rushed on his way, while the
blacksmith very cody proceeded to handle his
rifle.
It was not long before a body of American
soldiers rushed by with the British in pursuit.
The blacksmith greeted them with shout, and
then raising his rife to his shoulder, he picked
The foremost from his steed, with the exclama- |
lion, "that's for Gen. Washington!" In mo-
nent the rifle was loaded, again it was fred,
md the pursuing British rode over the body Of
another fallen officer. "That's for myself,
.ried the blacksmith And then with a hand
strong with the feeling of coming death the
sturdy freeman again loaded, again raised his
.fle. He fred his last shot, and as another SOL
lier kissed the sod, a tear quiyered in the eye
# the dying blacksmith. aAnd that" he cried
With a husky voice, which strengthened into a
shout, aand that's for mad Anthony Wayne"
Long after the battle was passed, the body
vas discovered, propped against the tree with |
he features frozen in death, smiling grimly, |
While the right hand still grasped the never
ailing rifle.
And thusdied one Of thousands of brave me-
of the revolution, brave in the |
lour Of retreat, and dismayed in the hour of
leath.