The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1876-09-14
A STORY OF l776.



nrandywinc.
Near Dilworth Corner, at the time of
the Revolution, there stood a quiet cot.
tage somewhat retired from the road, un.
der the the shade of a stout chestnut tree.
II WAS a quiet cottage, nesting away
there in the corner of the forest road, n
dear home in the wilderness, with slop-
ing roof, walls of dark gray stone, and
easement hidden among vines and flow
Crs.
Here, at the time of the Revolution,
there dwelt Il young blacksmith, his
young wife and her babe. What cared
the blacksmith, working away in that
shadowy nook Of the forest, for war ?
What cared he for the peril of the times
80 long as his strong arm, ringing that
hammer on the anvil, might gain bread
for his wife and child
All, he cared little for war, he took
ntte note OF the panic that shook the
valley, when, some few mornings before
the battle Of Brandywnc, while shoeing
the horse of a Tory refugee, he overheard
plot for the surprise and CAPTURE of
Washington. The American leader was
10 he lured into the tolls of the Tories;
his person once in the British camp,
the English general might send the
Traitor Washington y 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 sncaking kindness for this Mister
Washington whose name rang on the
lips of all men. So one night, bidding
his Young wife a hasty good.by, and kis-
sing the babe that reposed on her bosom,
smiling As it slept, he hurried away to
the American camp, and told his story
to Washington,
1t WAS morning when he came back. 1t
was in the dimncss of the autunmal
morning, that the blacksmith was plod-
ding his way along the forest road.
SINE few PAGES ahead there was an aged
oak, standing ont into the ropd--a grim
old veteran Of the forest, that had stood
the shocks Of three hundred years.
Right beyond that oak was the black
emith's home.
With this thought warming his heart,
he hurried on He hurried ON, think
Wy of the calm young face and mild
blue eyes OF that wife, who the night
hclorc had stood in the cottage door wav-
ing him out of sight with a hcckOncd
GOOD d-by-thinking of the baby that lay
smiling AZ it slept upon her bosom, he
hurried ON he turned the bend Of the
w0od--hc Ioukcd upon his home.
Nh p! what a sight was there ,
Where the night before he had left a
peaceful cottage, smiling under q green
chestnut tree, in the ligbt of the setting
sun, now was only a heap ot black and
smoking cmbcrs, and Il burnt and blasted
tree.
and there stood the blacksmith gaz.
ing upon that wreck of his hcarthstouc
there he stood with folded arms and
moody brow but in moment smile
broke over his face.
Tie saw il all. In the night his home
had taken fire. aud then burned to Gin
ders. But his wife-bis child had cs
capped for that he thanked God.
With the toll of his stout arm, plying
there on the anvil, he would build
Iaircr house for wife and child fresh
flowers should bloom over the garden
walks, and more lovely vines trail along
the easement.
With this resolve kindling over his
face. the blacksmith steOd there, with
cheerful light beaming from his large
gray eyes, when hand was laid upon
his sholdc".
He turned and hcheld the face Of
ncighbor
It vas ncighbor but there was an
awful agony stamping those plain tea-
turcs--thcre was an awful agony flashing
from those dilating cycs--therc a dark
an terrible mystery speaking from those
thin lips, that moved but made no
sound.
At last, flrcing the blacksmith along
the brown graveled walk, now strcwn
with cinders, he pointed to the smoking
embers. There, there--amid that heap
ot black and smoking ruins, the black
smith beheld dark mass OF burnt flesh
and klackened bones.
"Your wife ~ shrieked the farmer, as
his agony found words. They British
they came in the night; they"
And then he spoke that outrage which
the lipquivers to think on, which the heart
palsied to tell-"Your wife" he shrek.
cd, pointing to that hideous thing amid
the smoking ruins; the British they
murdered your wife, they flung her dead
body in the hames-they dashed your
child against the hearthstOne."
This was the farmers story.
And there, as the light ot breaking
day fell around the spot there stood the
husband, the father, gazing upon that
mass of burned flesh and blackened bones
all that WAS once his wife.
Do You ask me for the words that
trembl,d from his white lips" DO you
ask me tor the fire that blazed in his
eye?
| cannot tell you. But can tell you
that there was a vow going up to
heaven from the blacksmith heart that
there was a clenced hand, upraised in the
light of the breaking day.
Yes, yes, a. the first gleam of the au-
tumnal lawn broke around the spot, as
he first long CLEAN of sunlight streamed
over the peeled skull of that fair young
wife-she that was last night-there was
avow of a maddened heart and anguished
brain.