, 1857-02-13

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REVOLUTIONARY INcIDENTs.-The hero o
the following thrilling story was embodied
in the person of stout blacksmith, aye, al
humble blacksmith but in his stout frame
hardened with toll, throbbed as generous
an impulse of freedom as ever beat in the
bosom of Lafayette, 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 cart-wbip in his coun-
try's service, was dragging baggage wa
gon from the field of battle, while some
short distance behind body Of continen-
tails were pushing forward 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 d
stout, muscular man, apparently some forty
years of age, extended at the foot Of q tree
at the very opening Of the pass He was
clad in the coarse attire Of a mechanic.
His coat had been anDg aside, and with his
shirt sleeves rolled up from his muscular
arm he lay extended OH the turf with bis
rifle in his grasp, while the blood poured in
a torrent from his right leg, which was bro
ken 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 fight, 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 III 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 can lift man ol
my build up there? For you see neighbor, y
he continued, while the blood flowed down
from his wound, Il never meddled with the
Britishers until they came trampling over
this valley and burned my house down.
And now Pm all riddled to pieces, and
haint got more than fifteen 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
then" exclaimed the blacksmith, "I'll die'
The WAGNER started his horses ahead,
and then with a sudden effort dragged the
wounded man along the sod To the foot OIL
the tree. His face was to the advancing
troopers, and while his shattered leg hung
over the bank, the wagner rushed on bis
way, when the doomed blacksmith proceed
ed coolly to load his rife.
1t was not long before a body Of Amer
ican soldiers rushed by with the British in
pursuit. The blacksmith greeted then
with shout, and, raising his rifle to hi,
shoulder, he picked the foremost from hi,
spirited steed, with the exclamation
That's for General Washingtonw
In moment the rifle was reloaded, and
again it was fred, and the pursuing British
rode over another of their fallen officers
That's for myself" cried the blacksmith
and then, with hand strong with the feel
ing of approaching death, again loaded
raised his rife fired his last shot, and an
other soldier kissed the sodl A tear quiv
cred in the eye Of the dying blacksmith
"And that" he said, with a husky voice
which strengthened almost into a shout
'is for mad Anthony Waynep
Long after the battle Of the BrandyWiu,
was past, the body was discovered agains
the tree, with the features frozen in death
smiling grimly. while his right hand still
grasped the never-failiRg rifle.
And thus died one Of the thousand bravt
mechanic heroes Of the Revolutions. bravr
in the hour of battle, undaunted in th,
hour Of retreat, aud undismayed in the mo
| ,,ont ~f Hath