Western Reserve chronicle. [volume] (Warren, Ohio) 1855-1921, 1857-01-21
REVOLUTIONARY INCIDENTS.

Ihe hero OF the following thrilling
story was embodied in the person of a
stout blacksmith. aye, an humble black
smith. but in his stout frame, hardened
with toll, throbbed as generous an i'm
pulse of freedom as ever beat in the bo-
som Of La Fayette. or around the heart
of mad Anthony Wayne.
1t was in full tide OF the retreat that a
follower Of the American camp, who had
at least shouldered a cart whip in his
country's service. was dragging bag
gage wagon from the field of battle,
while some short distance behind, a
body of continentals were pushing for
ward With body of British in pursuit.
The wagon had arrived at a 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 baggage
wagons. 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 a
mechanic His coat had been flung
aside, and with his shirt sleeves rolled
up from his muscular arm, he lay ex-
tended on the turf with his rifle in his
grasp. while the blood poured in tor
rent from his right leg, which was broken
at the knee by cannon ball.
The wagoner's sympathies were ar
rested by the sight. He would have
paused in The very instance of his flight,
and placed the wounded blacksmith in
his wagon, but the stout hearted man
refused
"Pll not go into your wagon" said
he. in his rough way. "but I'll tell you
what 1 will do. Do you see yonder
cherry tree on the top Of that rock that
hangs over the road ? Do you think you
can lift man of my build-up there .
For you see neighbor. he continued,
while the blood flowed down &om his
wound, a never meddled with the
Briiishers until they came trampling
over This valley, and burned my house
down. And now I'm all riddled 10
pieces. and haint got more than fifteen
minutes in me ; but I've got three balls
10 my cartridge box, ant so just prop me
up against that tree. and I'll give them
the whole three shots, and then," ex-
claimed the blacksmith, I'm die"
The wagoner started his horses ahead,
and then wi h sudden effort dragged the
wounded nan along the sod to the foot
Ct the tree. His face was to the advance
ing 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 rife.
1t was not long before body Of Amer
lean soldiers rushed by with the British
in pursuit. The blacksmith greeted them
with shout, ami raising his rifle 10 his
shoulder he picked the foremost from
his spirited sieed with the exclamation
"Thal's for General Washington !''
In a moment the rid: was reloaded,
and again it was fired, and the pursuing
British rode ovei another of their fallen
officers.
That's for myself" cried the black
smith, and then, with hand strong with
the feeling of approaching death, again
loaded. raised bis rife and fred his last
shot, and another soldier kissed the sod
A tear quivereG in the eye of the dying
And that" he said. with husky
voice. which strengthened almost into
shout, sis for mad Anthony Wayne !"
Long after the battle of the Brandy
vine was past, the boIy was discovered
against the tree, with the features frozen
in death, smiling grimly. while his right
hand still grasped the neyer-failing III
lie.
And thus died one Of the thousand 1
brave mechanic heroes of the RevoIu-
ion /; brave in the hour Of battle. un.
launted in the hour Of retreat, and un-
lismayed in the moment of death.