“...And the Concord fight, f with all its unequaled and uneclipsed glory was won, by help of God, by Massachusetts i minutemen. Some were - laughing and joking to think i that they were going to have ■ what they had for 'months ! longed for, a hit at old Gage.’But Davis was a thoughtful, sedate, serious man, a genuine Puritan like Samuel Adams, and he rebuked them. He told them that in his opinion it was ‘a most eventful crisis for the colonies; blood would be spilt, that was certain; the crimsoned fountain would be opened, none could tell when it would close |nor with whose blood it would lt;overflow. Let every man gird 1himself for battle, and not be 1afraid, for God is on our side.’ lt;He had great hopes that the country would be free, though ; he might not live to see it. lt;His men assembled in the |grey chill of morning outside his |house. He took the gun from 'those hooks with no trembling lt;hand or wavering heart, and lt;with his trusty sword hanging by his side, he started for North Bridge with the firm tread of a giant. Death! Davis did not fear to die. And he had the magic a power, which some men cer- r tainly have. God bestows it upon 1 them to inspire everyone around them with the same v feeling.' His soldiers to a man r would have gone anywhere n after such a leader. a“Colonel Barrett gave con- P sent to make the attack. Davis E came back to his company, drew his sword and commanded f( them to advance six paces. He r then faced them to the right, 8 and at his favorite tune of The n White Cockade’ led the column n of attack towards the bridge. By b the side of Davis marched n Major Buttrick, of Concord, as s brave a man as lived, and old Colonel Robinson, of Westford. fi The British on this began to take fc up the bridge; the Americans on p this quickened their pace. FImmediately the firing on both q sides began. Davis is at once w shot dead through the heart, the w ball passed quite through his qibody, making a very large inwound, perhaps driving in a dibutton of his coat. His blood pigushed out in one great stream, aiflying, it is said, more than ten hlt;feet, besprinkling and Clt;besmearing his own clothes Pthese shoe-buckles and the saclothes of Orderly Sergeant reDavid Forbush and a file Hleader, Thorp. When his eweeping comrades came to take mcare of his youthful but bloody coremains, they, with difficulty, brunclutched those hands now cold and stiff in death. He was ofjust elevating to his sure eye PIthis gun. No man was a surer hashot. What a baptism of blood ccdid those soldiers then receive! miThere never can be another, acThere never can be but one man R(who headed the first column of ehattack on the King’s troops in Stlt;the Revolutionary War. And HeIsaac Davis was that man ” thlt;