Grand River times. [volume] (Grand Haven, Mich.) 1851-18??, 1857-04-22
REVOLUTY0NARY INCIDENT.

| RE VOL LOIIONARY INCIDENT.
The hero of the following thrilling story
was embodied in the person of stout black
smith, aye, an humble blacksmith, but in his
stout frame, hardened with toll, throbbed as
generous an impulse of freedom, as ever beat
in the bosom of La Fayette, or around the
heart of mad Anthony Wayne.
ltwas in full tide of the retreat that fol-
lower Of the American camp, who had at
least shouldered a cart whip in his country's
service, was dragging baggage wagon from
the field of battle, while some short distance
behind, a body of Continentials were pushing
forward with body of British in pursuit.
The wagon had arrived at narrow point
of the by-road leading to the south, where
two high banks of rocks and crags, arising
on either side, afforded just space sufficient for
the passage of the wagon, and not an inch
more.
His eyes were arrested by the sight of
stout muscular man, apparently some forty
years of age, extended at the foot of tree
at the very opening of the pass. He was
clad in the coarse attire of mechanic. His
coat had been flung aside, and with his shirt
sleeves rolled up from his muscular arm, he
lay extended on the turf with his rifle in his
grasp, while the blood poured in torrent
from his right leg, which was broken at the
knee by cannon ball.
The wagoner's sympathies were arrested
by the sight. He would have paused in the
very instance of his flight, and placed the
wounded blacksmith iu his wagon, but the
stout-hearted man refused.
"Tll not 60 into your wagon said he, in
his rough way, "but I'll tell you what l will
do. Do you see yonder cherry tree on the
top of that rock that hangs over the roadG
Do you think you can lift man of my build
up there! For you see, neighbor" he contin-
ued, while the blood flowed down from his
wound, 81 never meddled with the British
ers until they came trampling over the valley
and burned my house down. And now I'm
riddled to pieces, and haint got more than ff-
teen minutes in me; but I've got three balls
in my cartridge box, and so just prop me up
against that tree, and I'll give the whole three
shots, and them" exclaimed the blacksmith,
"I'll die"
The WAGNER started his horse ahead, and
then with a sudden effort dragged the wound
ed man along the sod to the foot of the tree.
His face was to the advancing troopers, and
while his shattered leg hung over the bank,
the WAGNER rushed on his way, when the
doomed blacksmith proceeded coolly to load
his rifle.
1t was not long before body of American
soldiers rushed by with the British in pursuit.
The blacksmith greeted them with shout,
and raising his rifle to his shoulder, he picked
the foremost from his spirited steed, with the
exclamation:
"Thats for General Washington"
In moment the rifle was reloaded, and
again it was fired, and the pursuing British
rode over another of their officers.
"That's for myself" cried the blacksmith,
and then, with hand strong with the feel
ing Of approaching death, again loaded, rails
ed his rifle, fired his last shot, and another
soldier kissed the sod A tear quivered in
the eye of the dying blacksmith.
Sand that" he said, with husky voice,
which strengthened almost into shout "is
for mad Anthony Waynew
Long after the battle of the Brandywine
was past, the body was discovered against the
tree, with the features frozen in death smiling
grimly, while his right hand still grasped the
never-failing rifle.
And thus died one of the thousand me-
chanic heroes of the Revolution; brave in the
hour of battle, undaunted in the hour of re-
treat and undismayed in the moment of
death.