Orleans County monitor. [volume] (Barton, Vt.) 1872-1953, 1874-12-21
Pulaski
A LEGEND OF THE REVOLUTION.


that Count Pulaski appeared in his glo-
ry. AS he rode, charging into the thick
est of the battle, he was warrior to
look upon, and never forget. Mounted
on large black horse, whose strength
and beauty of shape made you forget the
plainness of the caparison. Pulaski him.
self, with a form six feet in height, mas
sive chest, and limbs of iron, was attir-
ed in white uniform, that was seen
from afar, relieved by the black clouds
of battle. His face, grim with the scars
of Poland, was the face of a man who
had seen much trouble. endured much
wrong. it was stamped with an express
sion of abiding melancholy. Bronzed in
hue, lighted by large, black eyes, with
| a lip darkened by thick moustache,
his throat and chin were covered with a
heavy beard, while his hair fell in raven
masses from beneath his troopers cap,
shielded with ridge of glittering steel.
His hair and beard were of the same
hue. The sword that hung by his side,
fashioned of tempered steel, with hilt
of iron, was one that warrior alone
could lift.
1t was in this array he rode to the
battle, followed by band of three hund-
red men, whose faces, burned with the
scorching of tropic sun, or hardened
by northern winters bore the scars of
many a battle. They were mostly Eu-
ropeans some Germans, some Poland
ers, some deserters from the British ar
my. To be taken by the British would
be death, and death on the gibbet; there
fore, they fought to the last gasp, rath-
er than mutter about quarter When
they charged, it was as one man, their
three hundred swords flashing over their
heads, against the clouds of battle. They
came down upon the enemy in terrible
silence, without a word spoken, not even
whisper. You could hear the tramp
of their steeds, you could hear the rat
| tling of their scabbards, but that was
all. Yet when they closed with the Brit
ish, you could hear noise like that of
a hundred hammers, beating the hot iron
on the anvil. You could see Pulaski
himself, riding yonder in his white uni
form, his black steed rearing aloft, as
turning his head over his shoulder, he
spoke to his men:
"FoRwARTs, BRUDERN, FoRwARTs !"
1t was but broken German, yet they
understood it, those three hundred men
of sunburnt faces, wounds and gashes.
With one burst they crashed upon sthe
enemy. For few moments then the
ground was covered with dead, while the
living enemy scattered IN panic before
their path. ..s.. .5.
1t was on this battle-day of Brandy.
wine, Sthat the count was in his glory
he understood but little English, so thai
he spoke what he had to say with the
edge of his sword. 1t was severe lex
icon, but the British soon learned tt
read it, and to know it, and to fear it
All over the field from yonder Quaker
meeting house, away to the top of Os
borne's Hill, the soldiers of the enem,
saw Pulaski come, and learned to know
his name by heart. That white uniform
that bronzed yisage, that black horse
with burning eye and quivering nostrils
they knew the warrior we'll they trem
bled when they heard him say: "For
warts, Brudern, Forwarts p
1t was in the retreat of Brandywin
, that the Polander was most terrible. |
was when the men of Sulliyan-badl,
armed, poorly fed, shabbily clad-gav
way, step by step before the overwhelm
ing discipline of the British host, tha
Pulaski looked like battle-6end, mount
ed on his demon steed. His cap had fall
en- from his brow. His barred head shon
in an occasional sunbeam, or grew Grim
son with the fash from the cannon or ri
s file. His white uniform was rent an
o. stained in fact, from head to foot b
4 was covered with dust and blood Sti
f his right arm was free-still it ros
O there executing British hireling whe
q it fell-still his voice was heard, hoars
i. and husky, but strong in its every ton
;. -"Forwarts, Brudern, forwarts p H
beheld the division of Sullivan retrea
If ing from the field he saw the BIRTHS
r yonder, stripping their coats from the
q backs. in the madness of pursuit. II
4 looked to the south for Washington, WI
with the reserve, under Greene, was hui
rying to the rescue; but the America
Chief was not in view Then Pulasl
If was convulsod with rage. He rode mat
l. ly upon the bayonets of the pursuir
J. English, his sword gathering victim a
re ter victim even there, in front of the
ID whole army, he flung his steed aero
n. the path of the retreating American:
re he besought them, in his broken Englis
ut to turn, to make one more effort;
IS shouted in hoarse tones that the day w
a not yet lost. They did not understar
be his words, but the tones IN which thf