Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1851-02-27

tnero OF the following thrilling story was
Rblacksmlth-ay, an humble blacksmith,
his stout frame, hardened with toll, throb
as generous an impulse of freedom as ever
eat in the bosom of Lafayette, or around the
heart Of mad Anthony Wayne.
II was in full tide Of the retreat, that follow
er Of the American camp,who had at least shouI-
dered a cart.whip in his country's service, was
dragging baggage wagon from the feA ofbat-
tie, while some short distance behind, bedy of
Continentals were pushing forward with body
Of British in pursuit.
The wagon had arrived at narrow point of
he by.road leading to the south, where two
banks of rocks and crags, arising on Ell
side, affordng just space sufficient for
ReSSage of the baggage wagons, and not an
more.
Is eyes were arrested by the sight of stout
cusr man, some forty years of age extended
the foot of tree at the very opening of the
ISs.
He was clad in the coarse attire of mechan-
His coat had been flung aside, and with
Inls 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 can
non ball.
The wagoner's sympathies were arrested by
the sight-he would have paused iu the very in
stance of his flight, and placed the wounded
blacksmith in his wagon, but the Ftout-hearted
mechanic refused.
"I'll not get into your wagon" he exclaimed,
in 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 road2 Do you
think that you can lifl man of my build up
there For you see, neighbor," he continued,
while the blood flowed down from his wound, 81
never meddled with the Britishers, until they
came trampling over this valley, and burned my
house down. And now | am all riddled to pie
ces; and haint no more than fifteen minutes in
me; but I've got three balls in my catridge-box,
and so just prop me up against that tree, and III
give them the whole three shots, and them" ex
claimed the blacksmith, "l'll de-"
The wagner started his horses ahead, and
then with sudden effort Of strength, dragged
the wounded man along the sod to the foot Of
tfs, Una while Ills shattered leg hung over the
bank, the wagner rushed on his way, while
the blacksmith proceeded coolly to load his ri
he.
1t was not long before body of American
soldiers rushed by, with the British in pursuit
The blacksmith greeted them with shout, ant
raising his rife to his shoulder, he picked the
foremost from his spirited steed, with the excla.
nation,
"That's for Gen. Washington /" In mo-
nent the rifle was loaded-again it was fired
and the pursuing British rode over another o.
their fallen officers. "That's for myself" cri.
ed the blacksmith, and then with hand strong
with tho feeling of coming death, again loaded
raised his rife; he fired his last shot, and anoth
cr soldier kissed the sod A tear quivered in
the eye Of the dying blacksmith. "And that,
he said with husky voice, which strength.
eued almost into shout, " is for mad Anthony
Wayne"
Long after the battle was passed, the body
was discovered against the tree, with the fea.
lures frozen in death, smiling grimly, while
the right hand still grasped the never-failing
rife.
And thus died one of the thousand brave me.
chanic heroes Of the Revolution; brave in the
hour Of battle, undaunted in the hour of retreat
and undismayed in the moment of death.