meddled with these Britishers until they came tramping over this valley, and burned my house down. And now I'm all riddled to pieces, and haint got more than fifteen minutes life in me! But I have got three good rifle balls in my cartridge box, and so jist prop me up against that cherry tree, and I'll give em the whole three shots, and then," exclaimed, with an oath, "and then I'll die!"

The wagoner started his horses ahead, and then with a sudden effort of strength, dragged the blacksmith along the sod to the foot of the cherry tree surmounting the rock by the road-side.

In a moment his back was propped against the tree, his face was to the advancing troopers, and while his shattered leg hung over the bank, the wagoner rushed on his way, while the blacksmith very cooly proceeded to load his rifle.

It was not long before a body of American soldiers rushed by, with the British in pursuit. The blacksmith greeted them with a shout, and then raising his rifle to his shoulder, he picked the foremost from his steed, with the exclamation: "That's for General Washington." In a moment the rifle again was loaded, again was it fired, and the pursuing British rode over the body of another fallen officer: That's for myself," cried the blacksmith. And then, with a hand strong with the feeling of coming death, the sturdy freeman again loaded, again raised his rifle. He fired his last shot, and as another officer kissed the sod, the tear quivered in the eye of the dying blacksmith, "And that," he cried, with a husky voice, which strengthened into a shout, " And that's for MAD ANTHONY WAYNE !"

And after the battle was past, his body was discovered, propped against the tree, with his features frozen in death, smiling grimly whilst the right hand grasped the never-failing-rifle.

THE LAST SCENE.

"The music of the battle, the thunder of the fightthey have passed away; and the green field smiles in

the face of heaven and the grass-grown graves rest smilingly in the broad, bright beams of the noon-day hour." The Voice of the Past.

It was a calm and lovely day in summer-the time was morning, and the place the valley of the Birmingham meeting-house. The place was lovely as on the battle morn, but forty-seven long years had passed since that day of terror, and yet the bye roads, the hills, and the plains, were all alive with people clad in their holiday costumes, and a long procession wound, with banners and with gleam of arms, around the base of Osborne's Hill, while in their front, the object of every eye, and every look there rolled a close carriage drawn by six magnificent steeds, and environed by civic soldiers, who rent the air with shouts, and flung wreaths of flowers and laurel around the pathway of the chariot.

Slowly, and with peals of solemn music, with the bright summer sun above, the carriage wound along the ascent of Osborne's Hill, and in a few moments, while valley and plain below were black with people, the prancing steeds were reined in at the very summit.

There was a pause for a moment, and then an aged man, with a wrinkled face and a sacred brow-an aged man, clad in the costume of the Revolution-approached and opened the carriage door.

A tall and noble-looking foreigner sprang out upon the sod, with the bearing of a man formed to win the hearts of men, with the manner of one of Nature's kings. For a moment he stood uncovered on the brow of the hill, with the sun shining on his noble brow, his expressive countenance, and his commanding form.

And then from plain, from hill, from valley, from the lips of ten thousand freemen, arose one shout,—a thunder shout, went up to the clear heavens-"WELCOME THE NATION'S GUEST-WELCOME LA FAYETTE !"

The stranger was observed to tremble with a strange emotion. He who had fought undaunted in the battle of that valley, forty-seven years ago, trembled like a child-the hero of two revolutions trembled-the terror

of European despots trembled, and leaned for support on the arm of the revolutionary soldier at his side.

Again the shout arose on the air-the free, glad shout of a nation's gratitude-and La Fayette, gazed from the height of that high hill, far over the surrounding country. There were hills crowned with woodlands-farms blooming with cultivation, and dotted with farm-houses -luxuriant vallies-level plains, green with the freshness of spring-and far away swept the magnificent landscape, basking and glowing in the summer's sun.

With one glance La Fayette took in this wide-scene with one glance he gazed upon the ten thousand faces upturned to him with shouts and joy, and those who stood by his side noticed the tear standing in his eyes, while he murmured-"All-all-are gone now! All but me and thee!" He embraced the revolutionary soldier by his side, and then clasping his hands, with the irresistible impulse of a full heart, he exclaimed again and again : My God-my God!-happy country -happy people-happy country-happy people!"_ And from hill and valley, and plain, again arose the shout-"Welcome the nation's Guest-welcome the friend of Washington, WELCOME LAFAYETTE!”

"Howe's original intention was to sail up the Delaware to Philadelphia, but learning that the Americans had obstructed the navigation of that river, he entered the Chesapeake bay and landed at the head of Elk river.

Anxious to prevent his approach to Philadelphia, Washington marched to meet him. Howe was not ready to leave the head of the Elk river before the 3d of September. On his advance Washington retired across the Brandywine creek, and took post with his main body. at Chadd's Ford, sending out General Maxwell with 1,000 light troops, to skirmish with the British and retard their progress.

On the 11th of September, the British army advanced, crossed the Brandywine at different points, and attacked the main army of the Americans, who sustained the as

sault with intrepidity for some time, but at length gave way.* General Washington effected a retreat with his artillery and baggage to Chester, where he halted, within eight miles of the British army, till next morning, when he retreated to Philadelphia.

The battle of Brandywine was the first in which La Fayette drew his sword in the American cause. He received a wound in the leg, but kept his position, and continued to cheer and encourage the troops to the end of the engagement. Several other French officers were engaged in this battle, as well as Count Pulaski, a Polish nobleman, who had also accepted a commission in the American army.

Washington remained in Philadelphia two days, collecting his scattered troops and replacing his stores, and then proceeded towards Lancaster.

On the 23d General Howe encamped with the main body of his army at Germantown, seven miles from Philadelphia; and on the 26th, with a detachment of his troops, he took peaceable possession of the City."

[See Frost's United States, pages 233 and 4.

Shortly after our arrival at Philadelphia, I carried the boots (I had brought with me) to Col., who came to his door and received them from me, saying at the same time you are a fine little boy, but never said as much as thank you, or offered me any thing to eat or to drink as a remuneration for my trouble of carrying them so great a distance to him. After delivering his boots to him, I returned to the barracks scratching my head,

*Mr. Marshall in his life of Washington, vol. 1st, pages 156 and 7, sustains Capt. Dewees' recollections and statements relative to the time the battle of Brandywine first began and ended. Mr. Marshall says: "In the morning of the 11th soon after day, information was received that the whole British army was in motion, advancing on the direct road leading over Chadd's Ford. The Americans were immediately under arms, and placed in order of battle, for the purpose of contesting the passage of the river. Skirmishing soon commenced between the advanced parties; and by ten, Maxwell's corps, with little loss on either side, was driven over the Brandywine below the ford. He also names the hours of eleven, A. M., 2 o'clock P. M., and at 4 o'clock the most regular and warmest contest took place, and was not altogether ended until night caused a separation. It is true Washington was retreating at dark."

wishing at the same time that I had given them to the old farmer that kept us in our flight to Philadelphia.

At 11 o'clock at night on the 26th, General Gray, aided and abetted by malignant and demoniac tories, attacked the army of General Wayne at the Paoli, about 20 miles above Philadelphia, and drove in his piquets with the bayonet's point. This attack was made in accordance with Gray's horrid mode of warfare. He fell upon Wayne's camp in the dead of night and massacred 56 or 58 of his troops in cold blood before he could form his men to receive or withstand so arch-bloody an enemy. "Wayne (in the language of Marshall) instantly formed his division; and while his right sustained a fierce assault, directed a retreat by the left, under cover of a few regiments who, for a short time, withstood the violence of the shock."

These poor fellows fell by the hand of Gray and his soldiers as did Col. Baylor's troop of light dragoons the year after (1778) at Tappan by the bayonet alone, and under circumstances such as to affix the appellation of assassin upon that officer (Gray,) and to stamp him with cowardice and meanness, and to render him an object of just hatred in the estimation of every honorable mind.

"But in no instance did the enemy evince more ferocious, unrelenting cruelty than in their attack upon Colonel Baylor's troop of Light Dragoons. While asleep in a barn at Tappan, they were surprised by a party under General Gray, who commanded his soldiers' to use the bayonet only, and to give the rebels no quarter. Incapable of defence, they sued for mercy. But the most pathetic supplications were heard without awakening compassion in the commander. Nearly one half of the troop [regiment] were killed. To many, repeated thrusts were given as long as signs of life remained. Several who had nine, ten and eleven stabs through the body, and were left for dead, afterwards recovered. A few escaped, and forty [the whole of the 4th troop]