Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1876-03-29

wildly along the line of crimson attire
and flashing bayonets, is heard above
all other sounds:
"Form, lads, form-fall in thereto
your arms lads, to your arms! Form,
comrades, formv'
In vain his shouting, in vain the haste
of his men rushing from their beds into
the very path of the advancing Cont
on them! They sweep on with a bold
front-the forms of the troopers mo int
ed on their war steeds, looming through
the mist, as with sword appraised and
battle-shout pealing to the skies, they
lead on the charge of death!
Con, boys, on!" rings the voice of Mad
Anthony. "On, comrades, on!" and re-
member Paoli!'
"Charge!" sounds the voice of
Washington, shrieking along the line,
like the voice of a mighty spirit
upon them-over them p Conway re-
echoes the sound, Sullivan has already
made the air ring with his shout, and
now Pulaski takes up the cry" For
-b1ude17a-Forw0,ts p'
The British face the bayonets of the
advancing Americans, but in vain.
Each bold backwoodsman sends his
volley of death along the British line,
and then clubbing his musket, rushes
wildly forward, beating the red-coat to
to the sod with blow that cannot be
stayed The British troopers rush for
ward in the charge, but ere half the
distance between them and the Ameri-
can host is measured, Mad Anthony
comes laundering along, with his legion
of iron, and as his war shout swells on
the air, the red-coats are driven back
by the hurricane force of his charge,
the ground is strewn with the dying,
and the red hoofs of the horse trample
madly over the faces of the dead
The fire of the infantry, spreading q
sheeted flame through the folds of the
mist, lights up the scene. The never
ceasing clang of sword, the low mutter-
ed shrek of the fallen, vainly trying to
stop the flow of blood, the wild yell of
the soldier, gazing madly around as he
receives his death wound, the shout of
the charge, and the involuntary cry of
"ouarter," all furnish a music most
dread and horrible, as though an in
fernal band were urging on the work
OF slaughter, with their notes of fiendish
n,ockery.
The form of Washington is in the
center of the fight, the battle glare
lighting up his face of majesty; the
stalwart form of Wayne is seen riding
hither and thither, waving a dripping
sword in his good right hand; the figure
of Pulaski, dark as the form of an
earth-riven spirit of some German
story, breaks on your eye, as envelop-
ed. In mist, he seems rushing every
where at the same moment, fighting in
all points of the contest, hurrying his
men onward, and driving the atrighted
British before him with the terror of
his charge.
And Col Musgrage-where is he!
He shouts the charge to his men, he
hurries thither, he shouts till he is
hoarse, he fights till his person is red
with the blood of his own men, slain
before his very eyes, but all in vain
He shouts the word of retreat along
his line: "Away, my men, away to
Chew's house-awayp p
The retreat commences, and then,
| indeed, the hunt of death is up in good
earnest.
The British wheel down the German
town road, they turn their backs to
their foes, they flee wildly toward Ger
mantown, leaving their dead and dying
IN their wake; man and horse, they
flee, some scattering their arms by the
roadside, others, weakened by loss of
blood, feebly endeavoring to Join the
retreat, and then falling dead in the
path of the pursuers, who with one
bold front, with one firm step rush after
the British in their flight, ride down
the fleeing ranks, and scatter death
along the hurrying columns.
| And In the very van of pursuit, his
tall form seen by every soldier, rode
George Washington, his mind strained
to pitch of agony, as the crisis of the
contest approached, and by his side
rode Mad Anthony Wayne, now Mad
Anthony indeed, for his whole appear
ance was changed, his eye seemed
turned to thing of living fame, his
face was begrimmed with powder, his
| sword was red with blood, and his bat
tle-shout rung fercer on the air:
Over them boys-upon them-over
them, and remember Paoli!'
NOW Wayne, now" shouted Wash
ington-"c enc charge more and we have
them !''
Forwarts = brudern - forwarts /"
shouted Pulaski, as his iron band came
laundering on" Forwarts- Wash
ington-forwarts I"
The British leader wheeled his steed
for moment, and gazed upon his pur-
suers. All around was bloodshed,
gloom and death; mist and smoke
above; fame around, and mangled
corses below. With one hoarse shout he
again babe his men make for Chew's
house, and again the dying scattered
along the path looked up, and beheld
the British sweeping madly down the
road
The vanguard of the pursuers had
gained the upper end Of Chew's wall,
when the remnant Of the British force
disappeared in the fog; file after file of
the crimson coated British were lost to
sight in the mist, and in the very heat
and flush of the chase, the Americans