Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1900-10-03

, Parson" Somewhat below medium
height and weight, he was put together
like soldier. His keen gray eyes had Il
, merry twinkle; his face was firm, yet
kind
He seemed like a man who would enjoy
being at war with one-half of the world
if he could be at peace with the other
half. He was indeed typical Of the by
gone days when the church was close to
the daily life Of the people.
Your arm, Uncle: exclaimed Pru-
denee. as she greeted him.
Only a scratch from British bullet
e few miles down the road-it can wait:
You see. / have come prepared And
he drew dozen sheets of closely-written
paper from beneath his coat.
But surely you will have something to
eat and drink uncle!'
Fighting first, lass-am fighting the
devil today"
They went to the little church. which
was already filled-for the most part with
women and old men. Here and there
was a young man in civilians clothes. n
score of soldiers lOitered in the doorway.
They cheered Justify when the Fighting
Parson' appeared:
He donned the black gown Of the ban
ished rector and presently mounted the
| high pulpit to read the sermon ne had
prepared.
His keen eyes wandered around the
church. settling for an instant upon each
high-backed pew, apparently seeing into
the utmost recess of the balcony, where
the bellows boy was preparing i0r a nap.
Again he looked around. this time slow
~. He seemed to be counting the young
men in civilians dress. Especially did
he gaze upon Rowland just beneath him.
He hurled his sermon upon the floor.
''Thirteen!' he exclaimed. why don'f
you go with the American army and tght
the British?'
Then he waited for a reply that came
not. There was no sound save the chlrp-
ing CT Il bird i'll the burial ground.
/ I'm not afraid to go. They can't hurt
| me. Iiiey can kill me if they like, they
can make drumhead Of my hide, but
they'll play numy. drum, drum, humy.
drum, drum, till the British are scared
out Of the country
Then. as if realizing it was a Tory
gown he wore. he threw it off, revealing
! his Continental uniform.
The women and children were awed,
the young men hung their heads in shame
even Rowland-and the old patriots
joined with the soldiers in cheering the
Fighting rarson.''
Having finished his impromptu sermon,
he brought the service to hasty close:
then announced his desire to eat-"some-
thing good, and plenty of it," he ex-
planned.
you were preaching at me-" observed
the master Of the house, rather humbly,
as their guest attacked the dinner.
you and twelve others. Good beef
and corn, Prudence. I'll have more
Rowland was about to make his time
didn't. Il guess you had better take me
] with you, provided Prudence and Gen.
| Wayne agree" he said.
Prudence nodded sorrowful assent
cit is your duty, Rowland"
nh. The Fighting Rarson' vouGhed for
by the hand. Il was afraid you were
bloody Tory, my boy. If l hadn't been
so blamed hungry, I'd have asked first"
| Rowland rode away with the chaplain
that afternoon, his wife's fearful bless
| ing upon him.
1T is your duty she said again.
! In week came the news that Mad
| Anthony was advancing westward with
flying brigade Of more than 1000 men
| to harass the rear guard of the Brit
! ish.
One day Rowland, looking more hand
] some than ever in suit Of borrowed
regimentals rode up with his command
der and the chaplain. Behind came the
army Of hardy, ill-clad patriots
| The brave general, who mad been
| friend Of Prudences father, bestowed Il
kiss upon her forehead without dismount-
ing.
MY soldier!" exclaimed Prudence ten
derby as she once more babe Rowland
| farewell Il am SO proud of YOU.
/ Thus the young husband rode away
with Mad Anthony" and the ''Fighting
Parson." If courage could be given to
a coward, 'twould seem they were the
ones to give it. Love had made Row
| land Burgess a coward.
The three rode on at the head of the
brigade-rode on into the very jaws Of
death ere they knew it. That night at
| Paoli they were hemmed in on every
side. It seemed as if all must die or be
captured.
Before a hundred bullets had sped a
horse dashed down the hill, the rider dig
gng his spurs into him. 1t was he whom
love had made coward.
Mad Anthony" wasted but one word
on nina word that was expressive
The Fighting Parson'' said more, but
no word quite as strong. As for the
men, they said nothing-they simply
! fought the harder.
And so the battle went on-the mas
sacre, it is called in history Three hun
dred were left dead or wounded upon the
oners: the rest. under Mad Anthony"
beat an honorable retreat.
OF course, there were other cOwardS
but none so noticeable as the one who
had galloped down the hill.
! Not before he was nearly home did
Rowland Burgess realize what he had
done, what he had branded himself. He
was deserter, a traitor; he would be
shot or maybe hanged To return to the
! had unconsciously made him u coward,
would be worse than folly.
He rode ON and on and on, wondering
whittier to go, this hunted fugitive.
Rea ching Philadelphia, he exchanged his
dishonored uniform for Il coarse sailor