Charles City Republican intelligencer. [volume] (Charles City, Iowa) 1861-1864, 1863-06-25

sfreamed over the peeled skull OF that
fair young wife--she that was last
nlght-there was vow of maddened
heart and anguished brain.
| How was that vow keptG Go there
to Brandywine, and where the carnage
gathers, where the fight is most bloody,
there you may see stout form press.
ing on, lifting huge hammer into
light. Where that hammer falls il
kills /! where that hammer strikes
itcrushes 1t is the blaeksmth's form.
And the war cry that he shouts 1t
is a mad cry of vengeance, half howl,
half hurrah Is it but fierce yell,
breaking up from his heavy chest
Alb, no ah, mol .# =. ......
! 1t is the name of Mary 1t is the
name of his young wife
! Oh, Mary-sweetest Iame of wo
man--name so soft, so musical so rip
pling-name of the Mother of Jesus
made holy by poetry and religion
How strangely did those syllables OF
music ring from the blacksmith's lips,
as he went numbering on?
Mary he shouts, as he drags that
relocated trooper from his steed !!
Mary he shrieks, as his hammer
crushes down, laying that officer, in
the dust. Look Another officer gilt
tering in tinsel, clasps that blacksmith
by the knees, and begs mercy
81 have wife--mercy !! have a
wife in England-spare me .r.
The blacksmith, crazed as he is,
trembles-therc is tear in his eye.
al would spare, but there is a form
that has gone before me all day. She
calls upon me to strike |" ... .....
The hammer fell, and then rang
out that strange war-cry-" Mary 7"
At last, when the battle was over,
he was found by WAGNER, who had
at least shouldered cart-whip in his
country's service-he was found sit
ting by the roadside, with his head
sunken, his leg broken-the life blood
oozing from his many wounds.
The wagner would have carried
him from the field but the stout black
smith refused. s... t...-
You see, neighbor," he said, in a
voice husky with death, al never
meddled with the British till they burn
ed my house, till they" he could not
speak the outrage, but his wife, bis
child, were before his eyes" And
now | have but five minutes in me,
would like to give them a shot before
die. DO you see that cherry tree
Do you think you could drag man
of my heft up there? Place me there
| give me q powder horn, three rifle
balls, and a good rife, and that is all
ask" . .s
The wagoner granted his request
he lifted him to the foot of the cherry
tree ; he placed the rife balls, and
powder horn within his grasp. Then
whipping his horses through the mar.
row pass, from the summit of hight
he looked down upon the scene of the
blacksmith's life. ......s.. e.........
There lay the stout man, at the foot
OF the cherry tree, with his head sunk,
his broken leg hanging over the road
side bank. The blood was streaming
from his wounds-he was dying. p.
Suddenly he raised his head-a
sound struck on his ear A party Of
British came rushing along the mar
row road mad with carnage aud
thirsting for blood. They pursued a
scattered band of Continentals. An
officer led the way, waving them on
with his sword.
The blacksmith loaded his rifle ;
with death, he took unerring aim.
That's for Washington !! /" he shouted
as he fired. The officer lay quivering
in the road side dust. On and on
came the British, nearer and nearer to
the cherry tree! The Continentals
swept through the pass. Again the
blacksmith loaded his rifle, and again
he fired. THAT'S for Mad Anthony T"
he shouted, as another officer bit the
dust.
The British now came rushing on
to the cherry tree, determined to cut
down the wounded man, who, with bis
face towards them, bleeding as it was,
dealt death among their ranks. A
fair visaged officer, with golden hair
waving on the wind led them on.
The blacksmith raised his rife with
a hand stifening with death, he took
the aim he fired--and the young
Britton fell with shrek.
And that" cried the blacksmith,
in voice that strengthened almost
into shout, and that's for"
His voice was gone ! The shrek
died on his white lips. His head sunk
his rifle fell.
A single word bubbled up with his
death groan. Even now me thinks
hear that word, echoing and trem.
bling there among the rocks of Bran,
dywine. That word was-MARY (!
Il