Charles City Republican intelligencer. [volume] (Charles City, Iowa) 1861-1864, 1863-06-25
Mistsllal,v.
THE MECHANIC HERO.
BATTLE OF THE BRANpYwfNE.

BATTLE OF THE BRANpYwINE
Near Dilworth corner, at the tim,
of the Revolution, there stood a auie
cottage, somewhat retired from tn
road, under the shade of stout chest
nut tree. 1t was quiet cottage, nes,
ling in one corner of the forest road,
dear home in the wilderness, with sic
ping roof, walls of dark grey stone
and easement hidden among tn
vines and flowers.
On one side, amid an interval of tn,
forest trees, was seen the roof of {
blacksmitll's shop. There was smal
garden in front with brown grave
walk and beds of wild flowers.
Here, at the same time of the Revo
luton. there dwelt stout blacksmith
his young wife and her babe. What
cared that blacksmith, working away
there in that shadowy nook of the for
est, for war? What feared he for the
times, so long as his strong arm, ring,
ing that hammer on the anvil, might
gain bread for his wife and child +?
All, he cared little for war, he took
little note of the panic that shook the
valley, when some few mornings be.
fore the battle of Brandywine, while
shoeing the horse of a Tory Refugee
he overheard the plot for the surprise
and capture of Washington. The
American leader was to be lured into
the tolls of the Tories his person
once in the British camp, the English
General might send the Ifaito,
Washington" home, to be tried in
London. ... ..-- ....
Now our blacksmith, working away
there, in that dim nook of the forest
without caring for battle or war, had
still a sneaking kindness for this Mis-.
ter Washington, whose name rung in
the lips of all men. So one night bid.
ding his young wife a hasty goodbye,
and kissing the babe that reposed on
her bosom, smiling as it slept, he hur-
ried away to the American camp, and
revealed the plot of the Tories to Wash,
ington. q. a " 30 a
1t was morning ere he came back.
1t was in dimness of autumnal morn.
ing, that the blacksmith was plodding
his way along the forest road. Some
few PAGES ahead there was an aged
oak. standing, out in the road-a grim
old veteran of the forest, that had
stood the shocks of three hundred
years. Right beyond that oak was
the blacksmith's home. . .s
With this thought warming his
heart. he hurried on. He hurried on
thinking of the calm young face and
mild blue eyes Of that wife who, the
night before, stood in the cottage
door, waving him out Of sight with a
beckoned goodbye, thinking of the
baby that lay, smiling as it slept, up
on her bosom, he hurried on-he turn
ed the bend of the wood, looked upon
his home.
All F! what sight was there !!
Where the night before he had left
a peaceful cottage, smiling under the
green chestnut tree, in the light of the
setting sun, now was only heap OF
black and smoking embers, and a
burnt and blasted tree !!
That was his home .......-
And there stood the blacksmith, ga
zing upon that wreck of his hearth
stone there he stood with folded arms
and moody brow, but a momentary
smile broke over his face. He saw il
all. .
In the night his home had taken
fire and been burnt to cinders. Rut
his wife and child had escaped. Fol
that he thanked God.
With the toll Of his stout arm, play.
ing there on the anvil, he would have
a fairer home for his wife and child
fresher flowers should bloom over the
garden walks, and more lovely vines
trail along the easement.
With this resolve kindling over his
face, the blacksmith stood there, with
a cheerful light beaming from his
large grey eye, when hand was laid
upon his shoulder.
He turned half around and bsheld
the face of a neighbor.
1t was a neighbor's face, but there
was awful agony stamped on those
plain features. ther was an awful ag
ony flashing from those dilating eyes
there was dark and terrible mystic
ry speaking from those thin lips which
moved aud moved, but made no sound
For a moment that farmer tried Il
speak the horror that convulsed biz
features.
At last, forcing the blacksmith
along the brown gravel walk, nov
strewn with cinders, he pointed to tn,
smoking embers. There amid In,
black and smouldering ruins, ths
blacksmith beheld q dark mass o
burnt flesh and blackened bones.
"Your wife I" shrieked the farmer
as his agony found words. eth,
British they came in the night, the,
-" and then the lip quivered, th'
heart grew palsied.
"Your wife," he shrieked, poin,
ing to that hideous thing, amid tn
smoking ruins 1.-THE British the,
murdered your wife. they flung he
dead body into the flames, and dashe'
your child against the hearth stone !
This was the farmers story.
And there as the light Of the break
ing day fell around the spot, there
stood the husband, the father, gazing
upon that mass of blackened bones
and burnt fesh-all that was once hi
wife.
Do you ask me for the words tina
trembled from his white lips !? Do 20,
ask me for the fire that blazed 10 hi
eye?
l cannot tell you. But I can tel
You that there was VOW going up I,
heaven from that blacksmith's heart
that there was clinched hand, up
raised, in the light Of the breakin.
day
Yes. yes. as the first CLEAN of tn
autumnal dawn broke around the spot
-as the first long CLEAN Of sunligh