Cooper's Clarksburg register. [volume] (Clarksburg, Va. [W. Va.]) 1851-1861, 1855-10-10

the breaking day. Yes, as the first CLEAN
of autumnal dawn broke around that spot,
as the first long stream of sunlight stream
ed over the peeled skull of that young wife
SHE was that last night-there was a
vow going up to heaven, the vow of a
maddened heart and anguished brain
How was that vow kept? Go to Bran
dywine, and where the carnage gathers
thickest, where The fighting is most
bloody, and there you may see a stout
stout form striding on, lifting hammer
into light, where that hammer falls it kills
where that hammer strikes it crushes.
1t is the blacksmith's form, and the war
cry that he shouts It is a mad cry OF
vengeance-half howl, half hurrah -
It is but fierce yell breaking up
from his heaving chest All no
Ah no 1t is the name of Mary!
1t is the name of his young wife Oh,
Mary, sweetest name of fwoman-name so
soft, SO rippling, SO musical--name of the
mother of Jesus, made holy by poetry
and religion. How strangely did the
syIlables ofmusic ring out from that black
smiths lips, as he went numbering on.
"Mary," he shouts, AS he drags that reds
coated trooper from his stccd MARY"
he shouts as his hammer crushes down,
laying that officer in the dust. "Look
another officer with a gallant face and
form-another officer glittcuing with tin
sels-clasps the blacksmith by the knee
and bcgs for mercy. l have a wife
l have wife in yonder England,
spare me-" The blacksmith, crazed as
he is, trembles, there is tear in his eye.
ii would spare you, but there is form
before me-the form of my dear dead
wife. That form is gone before me all
day, she calls upon me to strike," 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 ut least shouldered a
cart whip, in his country's service. He
was found sitting by the roadside, his
head was sunken, his leg broken and his
itc-bIood yelling from his many wounds
The stranger would have carried him
from the field. but the stout blacksmith
refused. You see, neighbour" he said
i'll that voice husky with death, al never
meddIed with the British until they burn
ed my homc-till thcy-hc could not
speak the outrage; but his wife and chill
dren were there before his eyes. "And
now I've but five minutes life in me, I'd
like to have a shot at the British before
die, dye SEQ that cherry tree Place me
there, give me powder horn, three ri
tie balls and good rifle, that's all ask"
| The WAGNER granted his request;
he lifted him to the foot Of the cher>
ry tree, he placed the rifle, the balls
and the powder within ! is grasp then
whipping his horses through the narrow
path from the summit Of tho nciyhboring
height he looked down upon the last
scene of the bIavksmith's Iifc There lay
the stout man at the foot of the cherry
tree, his head sunk, his leg hanging over
the bank-thc blood was streaming from
his wounds-hc was dying. Suddenly
he raised his head a sound struck his
ear, il party Of British came rushing along
the narrow with carnage and thirsling for
blood, they pursued a band of scattered
COntiucntalS. An officer led the way,
walving them onward with his sword
the blacksmith loaded his rifle with that
eye bright with death he took the aim !;
" that's for Washington" he shouted as
he fired the officer lay quivcring on the
road side dust. On, and on came the
British, nearer to the cherry tree, the
ContinentaIs swept through the pass +;
again the blacksmith loaGed-again he
fired. '"That's for Mad a nthony Waync,"
he shouted. as another officer bit the dust.
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 visagcd Of
ticer, with golden hair waving in the
wind, led them on, the blacksmith
raised his rifle with that hand stitfeninr
in death, he took the aim, he fired. The
young Briton fell with a shrek. "And
that" cTriy"!l /, the blacksmith, in voice
that say. IIIhened into a shout, "and
that's fl Ruhis voice was gone, his shrek
died on Ills white lips. His head sunk
his rifle fell. a single word bubbled up
with his death organ. Even now methinks
| hear that word echoing and trembling
there among the rocks of Brandywine,
| that word was MARY"