Year: 1876

| The last Shot Of the Mechanic Hero of
Brandywine-


Near Dilworth Corner, at the time of
the Revolution, there stood quiet cot
tage somewhat retired from the road, un-
der the the shade of stout chestnut tree.
1t was a quiet cottage, nesting away
there in the corner of the forest road, a
dear home in the wilderness, with slop-
ing roof, walls of dark gray stone, and
a easement hidden among vines and fOw
ers.


Here, at the time of the Revolution,
there dwelt a 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,
so 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
little note of the panic that shook the
valley, when, some few mornings before
the battle of Brandywine, while shoeing
the horse of Tory refugee, he overheard
plot for the surprise and CAPTURE of
Washington. The American leader was
to be lured jpto the tolls of the Tories;
| his person once in the British camp,
the English general might send the
" Traitor Washington" 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 a sneaking kindness for this Mister
Washington whose name rang on the
lips of all men. So one night, bidding
his Young wife 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 dimness of the autumnal
morning, that the blacksmith was plod
ding his way along the forest road.
Same few PAGES ahead there was an aged
oak, standing out into the rOad-a grim
old veteran of the forest, that had stood
the shocks of three hundred years.
Right beyond that oak was the black
smiths home.


With this thought warming his heart, |
he hurried on. He hurried on, think |
ing of the calm young face and mild |
blue eyes of that wife, who the night |
before had stood in the cottage door wav- |
ing him out of sight with a beckoned |
good-by-thinking of the baby that lay
smiling as it slept upon her bosom, he
Ou-ilO IhS ONhN Va VIZ
wOod-he looked upon his home.


All! what a sight was there


Where the night before he had left a
peaceful cottage, smiling under green
chestnut tree, in the light of the setting
sun. now was only heap of black and
smoking embers, and burnt and blasted
tree.


And there stood the blacksmith gaz-
ing upon that wreck of his hearthstone
there he stood with folded arms and a
moody brow but in a moment a smile
broke over his face.


He saw it all. In the night his home
had taken fire, aud then burned to cin-
ders. But his wife-his child had es-
capped; for that he thanked God.


With the toll of his stout arm, plying
there on the anvil, he would build a
fairer 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 stood there, with
cheerful light beaming from his large
gay eyes, when hand was laid upon
his sholdeF.


He turned and beheld the face of
neighbor.


It vas a neighbor but there was an
awful agony stamping those plain fea-
tures-there was an awful agony flashing
from those dilating eyes-there dark
and terrible mystery speaking from those
thin lips, that moved but made ne
sound.


At last, forcing the blacksmith along
the brown graveled walk, now strewn
with cinders, he pointed to the smoking
embers. There, there-amid that heap
of black and smoking ruins, the black
smith beheld dark mass of burnt flesh
and blackened 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
the1ip uuivers to think on, which the heart
palsied to tell-"Your wife," he shrek
ed, pointing to that hideous thing amid
the smoking ruins; the British they
murdered your wife, they flung her dead
BODY in the fames-they dashed your
child against the hearthstone."


This was the farmers story.
And there, as the light OF 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.





trembled from his white lips? Do you
ask me for 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 clenced hand, appraised Ill the
light of the breaking day.


Yes, yes, as the first CLEAN of the au
tumnal dawn broke around the spot, as


he first long gleam of sunlight streamed
over the peeled skull of that fair young
wife-she that was last night-there was
! a VOW of a maddened heart and anguished
brain.


How was that VOW kept? Go there to
Brandywine, and where the carnage
gathers thickest, where the fight is most
bloody, there you may see stout form
striding on, lifting huge hammer into
light. Where that hammer falls, it
| kills-where that hammer strikes it
crushes 1t is the blacksmith's form.
And the war-cry that he shouts? Is it
| a mad cry of vengeance-half howl, half
hurrah? Is it but a fierce yell, breaking
up from his heaving chest?


All, mol All, no!


1t is the name Of Mary! 1t Is the
name of his young wife!


Oh, Mary-sweetest name of woman
name SO soft, so rippling, so musical
name of the mother of Jesus, made holy
by poetry and reigion-how strangely
| did your syllables of music ring out from
that blacksmith's lips, as he went muir
dering onl


"Maryl" he shouts, as he drags the
relocated trooper from his steed
ssMaryl" he shrieks, as his hammer
crashes down, la ring that officer in the
dust. Lookl Another officer, with a
gallant face and form-anOther officer,
glittering in tinsel, clasps that black
smith by the knees and begs for mercy.


81 have a wife-mercy! ] have wife
Wonder IN Enpland--spare me,h