Weekly Trinity journal., 1857-02-14
The Heroic Blacksmith

The hero OF the following thrilling story
was embodied in the person Of a st0ut black
smith, aye, an humble blacksmith. bnt 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:
1t was in full tide of the retreat that a
follower of the American camp, who had at
least shouldered cart-whip in his countrys
service, was dragging baggage wagon from
the field Of battle, while some short distance
behind, q body of continentals 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 craigs, arising
on either side, afforded just space sufficient
for the passage of the baggage wagons, and
not ali inch more.
His eyes were arrested by the sight of a
stout, muscular man, apparently some forty
years of age, extended at the foot of q tree
at the very opening Of the pass. lie was
clad in the coarse attire Of q mechanic. His
coat had been fang aside, and 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 a torrent
from his right leg, which was broken at the
knee by cannon ball
The wagoner's sy,npathies were arrested
by the sight. He would have paused in the
very instance Of his fight, and placed the
wounded blacksmith in his wagon bnt the
stout-hearted man refused
III not go into your wagon. said he, 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 road ? Do
you think you can lift man of my build up
there F.? For you see neighbor,' he contin-
ued, while the blood flowed down from his
wound, never medded with the British
ers until they came trampng over the val
ley and burned my house down And now
am Gil rlddleo TO pieces, and han't got
more than fifteen minutes in me :; but I've
got three balls in my cartridgc-box, aud so
just prop me up against that tree, and III
give the whole three shots, and then, cx-
claimed the blacksmith, IN die
The WAGNER started bis horses ahead,
and then with suddtn effort dragged the
wounded 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 wagoner rushed on his
way, when the doomed blacksmith proceed
ed cooly to load his rife.
1t was not long before body of Amcri-
can soldiers rushed by with the British in
pursuit. The blacksmith greeted them with
shout, and, raising his rifle to his shoulder
be picked the foremost from his spirited
steed, with the exclamation
That's for General Washington 2
In q moment the rifle was reloaded, and
again it was fired, and the pursuidg British
rode over another Of their fallen officers.
That's for myself cried the blacksmith
and then, with hand strong with tie feel
ing Of approaching DEATH again loaded
raised his rfle-fired his last shot and an
other soldier kissed the sod A tear quy-
cred in the eye of the dying blacksmith.
And that he said with husky voice
which strengthened almost into a shout, is
for mad Anthony Wayne
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 rife
And thus died one Of the thousand brave
mechanic heroes of the Revolution brave
in the hour Of battle, undaunted in the hour
of retreat, and undismayed in the moment Of
death.