“There was mounting ’mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;
Fosters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran;
There was racing, and chasing, on Cannobie Lea.—”
THE POMP of military parade with which the troops marched from the village of Lexington, as the little hamlet was called, where the foregoing events occurred, soon settled again into the sober and business-like air of men bent on the achievement of their object. It was no longer a secret that they were to proceed further into the interior, to destroy the stores already mentioned, and which were now known to be collected at Concord, the town where the Congress of Provincial Delegates, who were substituted by the colonists for the ancient legislature of the Province, held its meetings. As the march could not now be concealed, it became necessary to resort to expedition, in order to ensure its successful termination. The veteran officer of marines, so often mentioned, resumed his post in front, and at the head of the same companies of the light corps which he had before led, pushed in advance of the heavier column of the grenadiers. Polwarth, by this arrangement, perceived himself again included among those on whose swiftness of foot so much depended. When Lionel rejoined his friend he found him at the head of his men, marching with so grave an air, as at once induced the Major to give him credit for regrets much more commendable than any connected with physical distress. The files were once more opened for room, as well as for air, which was becoming necessary, as a hot sun began to dissipate the mists of the morning, and shed that enervating influence on the men so peculiar to the first warmth of an American Spring.
“This has been a hasty business altogether, Major Lincoln,” said Polwarth, as Lionel took his wonted station at the side of the other, and dropped mechanically into the regular step of the party—“I know not that it is quite as lawful to knock a man in the head as a bullock.”
“You then agree with me in thinking the attack hasty, if not cruel?”
“Hasty! unequivocally. Haste may be called the distinctive property of the expedition; and whatever destroys the appetite of an honest man, may be set down as cruel. I have not been able to swallow a mouthful of breakfast, Leo. A man must have the cravings of a hyena, and the stomach of an ostrich, to eat and digest with such work as this before his eyes.”
“And yet the men regard their acts with triumph!”
“The dogs are drilled to it. But you saw how sober the Provincials looked in the matter; we must endeavour to sooth their feelings in the best manner we can.”
“Will they not despise our consolation and apologies, and look rather to themselves for redress and vengeance?”
Polwarth smiled contemptuously, and there was an air of pride about him that gave an appearance of elasticity even to his heavy tread, as he answered—
“The thing is a bad thing, Major Lincoln, and, if you will, a wicked thing—but take the assurance of a man who knows the country well, there will be no attempts at vengeance; and as for redress, in a military way, the thing is impossible.”
“You speak with a confidence, sir, that should find its warranty in an intimate acquaintance with the weakness of the people.”
“I have dwelt two years, Major Lincoln, in the very heart of the country,” said Polwarth, without turning his eyes from the steady gaze he maintained on the long road which lay before him, “even three hundred miles beyond the inhabited districts; and I should know the character of the nation, as well as its resources. In respect to the latter, there is no esculent thing within its borders, from a humming-bird to a buffalo, or from an artichoke to a water-melon, that I have not, on some occasion or other, had tossed up, in a certain way—therefore, I can speak with confidence, and do not hesitate to say, that the colonists will never fight; nor, if they had the disposition, do they possess the means to maintain a war.”
“Perhaps, sir,” returned Lionel sharply, “you have consulted the animals of the country too closely to be acquainted with its spirits?”
“The relation between them is intimate—tell me what food a man diets on, and I will furnish you with his character. ’Tis morally impossible that a people who eat their pudding before the meats, after the fashion of these colonists, can ever make good soldiers, because the appetite is appeased before the introduction of the succulent nutriment of the flesh, into—”
“Enough! spare me the remainder,” interrupted Lionel—“too much has been said already to prove the inferiority of the American to the European animal, and your reasoning is conclusive.”
“Parliament must do something for the families of the sufferers.”
“Parliament! yes, we shall be called on to pass resolutions to commend the decision of the General, and the courage of the troops; and then, after we have added every possible insult to the injury, under the conviction of our imaginary supremacy, we may hear of some paltry sum to the widows and orphans, cited as an evidence of the unbounded generosity of the nation!”
“The feeding of six or seven broods of young Yankees is no such trifle, Major Lincoln,” returned Polwarth; “and there I trust the unhappy affair will end. We are now marching on Concord, a place with a most auspicious name, where we shall find repose under its shadow, as well as the food which this home-made parliament has gotten together. These considerations alone support me under the fatigue of this direful trot with which old Pitcairn goes over the ground—does the man think he is hunting with a pack of beagles at his heels!”
The opinion expressed by his companion, concerning the martial propensities of the Americans, was one too common among the troops to excite any surprise in Lionel, but disgusted with the illiberality of the sentiment, and secretly offended at the supercilious manner with which the other expressed these injurious opinions of his countrymen, he continued his route in silence, while Polwarth speedily lost his loquacious propensity, in a sense of the fatigue that assailed every muscle and joint in his body.
That severe training of the corps, concerning which the captain vented so frequent complaints, now stood the advance in good service. It was apparent that the whole country was in a state of alarm, and small bodies of armed men were occasionally seen on the heights that flanked their route, though no attempts were made to revenge the deaths of those who fell at Lexington. The march of the troops was accelerated rather with a belief that the colonists might remove, or otherwise secrete the stores, than from any apprehension that they would dare to oppose the progress of the chosen troops of the army. The slight resistance of the Americans in the rencontre of that morning, was already a jest among the soldiers, who sneeringly remarked, that the term of “minute-men,” was deservedly applied to warriors who had proved themselves so nimble in flight. In short, every opprobrious and disrespectful epithet that contempt and ignorance could invent, were freely lavished on the forbearing mildness of the suffering colonists. In this temper the troops reached a point whence the modest spire and roofs of Concord became visible. A small body of the colonists retired through the place as the English advanced, and the detachment entered the town without the least resistance, and with the appearance of conquerors. Lionel was not long in discovering from such of the inhabitants as remained, that, notwithstanding their approach had been known for some time, the events of that morning were yet a secret from the people of the village. Detachments from the light corps were immediately sent in various directions; some to search for the ammunition and provisions, and some to guard the approaches to the place. One, in particular, followed the retreating footsteps of the Americans, and took post at a bridge, at some little distance, which cut off the communication with the country to the northward.
In the meantime, the work of destruction was commenced in the town, chiefly under the superintendance of the veteran officer of the marines. The few male inhabitants who remained in their dwellings, were of necessity peaceable, though Lionel could read in the flushed cheeks and gleaming eyes, the secret indignation of men, who, accustomed to the protection of the law, now found themselves subjected to the insults and wanton abuses of a military inroad. Every door was flung open, and no place was held sacred from the rude scrutiny of the licentious soldiery. Taunts and execrations soon mingled with the seeming moderation with which the search had commenced, and loud exultation was betrayed, even among the officers, as the scanty provisions of the colonists were gradually brought to light. It was not a moment to respect private rights, and the freedom and ribaldry of the men were on the point of becoming something more serious, when the report of fire-arms was heard suddenly to issue from the post held by the light-infantry, at the bridge. A few scattering shot were succeeded by a volley, which was answered by another, with the quickness of lightning, and then the air became filled with the incessant rattling of a sharp conflict. Every arm was suspended, and each tongue became mute with astonishment, and the men abandoned their occupations as these unexpected sounds of war broke on their ears. The chiefs of the party were seen in consultation, and horsemen rode furiously into the place, to communicate the nature of this new conflict. The rank of Major Lincoln soon obtained for him a knowledge that it was thought impolitic to communicate to the whole detachment. Notwithstanding it was apparent that they who brought the intelligence were anxious to give it the most favourable aspect, he soon discovered that the same body of Americans which had retired at their approach, having attempted to return to their homes in the town, had been fired on at the bridge, and in the skirmish which succeeded, the troops had been compelled to give way with loss. The effect of this prompt and spirited conduct on the part of the provincials produced a sudden alteration, not only in the aspect, but also in the proceedings of the troops. The detachments were recalled, the drums beat to arms, and, for the first time, both officers and men seemed to recollect that they had six leagues to march through a country that hardly contained a friend. Still few or no enemies were visible, with the exception of those men of Concord, who had already drawn blood freely from the invaders of their domestic sanctuaries. The dead, and all the common wounded, were left where they had fallen, and it was thought an unfavourable omen among the observant of the detachment, that a wounded young subaltern, of rank and fortune, was also abandoned to the mercy of the exasperated Americans. The privates caught the infection from their officers, and Lionel saw, that in place of the high and insulting confidence with which the troops had wheeled into the streets of Concord, they left them, when the order was given to march, with faces bent anxiously on the surrounding heights, and with looks that bespoke a consciousness of the dangers that were likely to beset the long road which lay before them.
These apprehensions were not groundless. The troops had hardly commenced their march before a volley was fired upon them from the protection of a barn, and as they advanced, volley succeeded volley, and musket answered musket from behind every cover that offered. At first these desultory and feeble attacks were little regarded; a brisk charge, and a smart fire of a few moments never failed to disperse their enemies, when the troops again proceeded for a short distance unmolested. But the alarm of the preceding night had gathered the people over an immense extent of country; and, having waited for information, those nearest to the scene of action were already pressing forward to the assistance of their friends. There was but little order, and no concert among the Americans; but each party, as it arrived, pushed into the fray, hanging on the skirts of their enemies, or making spirited though ineffectual efforts to stop their progress. While the men from the towns behind them, pressed upon their rear, the population in their front accumulated in bodies, like a rolling ball of snow, and before half the distance between Concord and Lexington was accomplished, Lionel perceived that the safety of their boasted power was in extreme jeopardy. During the first hour of these attacks, while they were yet distant, desultory, and feeble, the young soldier had marched by the side of M’Fuse, who shook his head disdainfully whenever a shot whistled near him, and did not fail to comment freely on the folly of commencing a war thus prematurely, which, if properly nursed, might, to use his own words, “be in time brought to something interesting.”
“You perceive, Major Lincoln,” he added, “that these Provincials have got the first elements of the art, for the rascals fire with exceeding accuracy, when the distance is considered; and six months or a year of close drilling would make them good for something in a regular charge. They have got a smart crack to their p’aces, and a pretty whiz to their lead already; if they could but learn to deliver their fire in platoons, the lads might make some impression on the light-infantry even now; and in a year or two, sir, they would not be unworthy of the favours of the grenadiers.”
Lionel listened to this, and much other similar discourse, with a vacant ear; but as the combat thickened, the blood of the young man began to course more swiftly through his veins; and at length, excited by the noise and the danger which was pressing more closely around them, he mounted, and riding to the commander of the detachment, tendered his assistance as a volunteer aid, having lost every other sensation in youthful blood, and the pride of arms. He was immediately charged with orders for the advance, and driving his spurs into his steed, he dashed through the scattered line of fighting and jaded troops, and galloped to its head. Here he found several companies, diligently employed in clearing the way for their comrades, as new foes appeared at every few rods that they advanced. Even as Lionel approached, a heavy sheet of fire flashed from a close barn-yard, full in the faces of the leading files, sending the swift engines of death into the very centre of the party.
“Wheel a company of the light-infantry, captain Polwarth,” cried the old major of marines, who battled stoutly in the van, “and drive the skulking scoundrels from their ambush.”
“Oh! by the sweets of ease, and the hopes of a halt! but here is another tribe of these white savages!” responded the unfortunate captain—“Look out, my brave men! blaze away over the walls on your left—give no quarter to the annoying rascals—get the first shot—give them a foot of your steel.”
While venting these terrible denunciations and commands, which were drawn from the peaceable captain by the force of circumstances, Lionel beheld his friend disappear amid the buildings of the farm-yard in a cloud of smoke, followed by his troops. In a few minutes afterwards, as the line toiled its way up the hill on which this scene occurred, Polwarth re-appeared, issuing from the fray with his face blackened and grimed with powder, while a sheet of flame arose from the spot which soon laid the devoted buildings of the unfortunate husbandman in ruins.
“Ha! Major Lincoln,” he cried, as he approached the other, “do you call these light-infantry movements! to me they are the torments of the damned!—Go, you who have influence, and what is better, a horse, go to Smith, and tell him if he will call a halt, I will engage, with my single company, to seat ourselves in any field he may select, and keep these blood-suckers at bay for an hour, while the detachment can rest and satisfy their hunger—trusting that he will then allow time for his defenders to perform the same necessary operations. A night-march, no breakfast—a burning sun—mile after mile—no halt, and nothing but fire—fire—’tis opposed to every principle in physics, and even to the anatomy of man to think he can endure it!”
Lionel endeavoured to encourage his friend to new exertions, and turning away from their leader, spoke cheeringly to his troops. The men cheered as they passed, and dashed forward to new encounters; the Americans yielding sullenly, but necessarily, to the constant charges of the bayonet, to which the regulars resorted to dislodge them. As the advance moved on again, Lionel turned to contemplate the scene in the rear. They had now been marching and fighting for two hours, with little or no cessation, and it was but too evident that the force of the assailants was increasing, both in numbers and in daring, at each step. On either side of the highway, along the skirts of every wood or orchard, in the open fields, and from every house, barn, or cover in sight, the flash of fire-arms was to be seen, while the shouts of the English grew, at each instant, feebler and less inspiriting. Heavy clouds of smoke rose above the valley, into which he looked, and mingled with the dust of the march, drawing an impenetrable veil before the view; but as the wind, at moments, shoved it aside, he caught glimpses of the worried and faltering platoons of the party, sometimes breasting and repulsing an attack with spirit, and at others shrinking from the contest, with an ill-concealed desire to urge their retreat to the verge of flight. Young as he was, Major Lincoln knew enough of his profession to understand that nothing but the want of concert, and of a unity of command among the Americans, saved the detachment from total destruction. The attacks were growing extremely spirited, and not unfrequently close and bloody, though the discipline of the troops enabled them still to bear up against this desultory and divided warfare, when Lionel heard, with a pleasure he could not conceal, the loud shouts that arose from the van, as the cheering intelligence was proclaimed through the ranks, that the cloud of dust in their front was raised by a chosen brigade of their comrades, which had come most timely to their succour, with the Heir of Northumberland at its head. The Americans gave way as the two detachments joined, and the artillery of the succours opened upon their flying parties, giving a few minutes of stolen rest to those who needed it so much. Polwarth threw himself flat on the earth, as Lionel dismounted at his side, and his example was followed by the whole party, who lay panting, under the heat and fatigue, like worried deer, that had succeeded in throwing the hounds from their scent.*
“As I am a gentleman of simple habits, and a man innocent of all this bloodshed, Major Lincoln,” said the captain, “I pronounce this march to be a most unjust draft on the resources of human nature. I have journeyed at least five leagues between this spot and that place of discord that they falsely call Concord, within two hours, amidst dust, smoke, groans, and other infernal cries, that would cause the best trained racer in England to bolt; and breathing an air, all the time, that would boil an egg in two minutes and a quarter, if fairly exposed to it.”
“You overrate the distance—’tis but two leagues by the stones—”
“Stones!” interrupted Polwarth—“I scorn their lies—I have a leg here that is a better index for miles, feet, or even inches, than was ever chiseled in stone.”
“We must not contest this idle point,” returned Lionel, “for I see the troops are about to dine; and we have need of every moment to reach Boston before the night closes around us.”
“Eat! Boston! night!” slowly repeated Polwarth, raising himself on one arm, and staring about him. “Surely no man among us is so mad as to talk of moving from this spot short of a week—it would take half that time to receive the internal refreshment necessary to our systems, and the remainder to restore healthy appetites.”
“Such, however, are the orders of the Earl Percy, from whom I learn that the whole country is rising in our front.”
“Ay, but they are fellows who slept peacefully in their beds the past night; and I dare say that every dog among them ate his half-pound of pork, together with additions suitable for a breakfast, before he crossed his threshold this morning. With us the case is different. It is incumbent on two thousand British troops to move with deliberation, if it should be only for the credit of his majesty’s arms. No, no—the gallant Percy too highly respects his princely lineage and name to assume the appearance of flight before a mob of base-born hinds!”
The intelligence of Lionel was nevertheless true; for after a short halt, allowing barely time enough for the troops to eat a hasty meal, the drums again beat the signal to march, and Polwarth, as well as many hundred others, was reluctantly compelled to resume his feet, under the penalty of being abandoned to the fury of the Americans. While the troops were in a state of rest, the field-pieces of the reinforcement kept their foes at a distance, but the instant the guns were limbered, and the files had once more opened for room, the attacks were renewed from every quarter. The excesses of the troops, who had begun to vent their anger by plundering and firing the dwellings that they passed, added to the bitterness of the attacks, and the march had not been renewed many minutes, before a fiercer conflict raged along its skirts than had been before witnessed that day.
“Would to God that the great Northumbrian would form us in order of battle, and make a fair field with the Yankees,” groaned Polwarth, as he toiled his way once more with the advance—“half an hour would settle the matter, and a man would then possess the gratification of seeing himself a victor, or at least of knowing that he was comfortably and quietly dead.”
“Few of us would ever arrive in the morning, if we left the Americans a night to gather in; and a half of an hour would lose us the advantages of the whole march,” returned Lionel—“Cheer up, old comrade, and you will establish your reputation for activity for ever—here comes a party of the Provincials over the crest of the hill to keep you in employment.”
Polwarth cast a look of despair at Lionel, as he muttered—
“Employment! God knows that there has not been a single muscle, sinew, or joint in my body in a state of wholesome rest for four-and-twenty hours!” Then turning to his men, he cried, with tones so cheerful and animated, that they seemed to proceed from a final and closing exertion, as he led them gallantly into the approaching fray—“Scatter the dogs, my brave friends—away with them like gnats, like moschettos, like leeches, as they are—give it them—lead and steel by handsful”—
“On—push on with the advance!” shouted the old major of marines, who observed the leading platoons to stagger.
The voice of Polwarth was once more heard in the din, and the irregular assailants sullenly yielded before the charge.
“On—on with the advance!” cried fifty voices out of a cloud of smoke and dust that was moving up the hill, on whose side this encounter occurred.
In this manner the war continued to roll slowly onward, following the weary and heavy footsteps of the soldiery, who had now toiled for many miles, surrounded by the din of battle, and leaving in their path the bloody impressions of their footsteps. Lionel was enabled to trace their route, far towards the north, by the bright red spots, which lay scattered in alarming numbers along the highway, and in the fields through which the troops occasionally moved. He even found time, in the intervals of rest, to note the difference in the characters of the combatants. Whenever the ground or the circumstances admitted of a regular attack, the dying confidence of the troops would seem restored, and they moved up to the charge with the bold carriage which high discipline inspires, rending the air with shouts, while their enemies melted before their power in sullen silence, never ceasing to use their weapons however, with an expertness that rendered them doubly dangerous. The direction of the columns frequently brought the troops over ground that had been sharply contested in front, and the victims of these short struggles came under the eyes of the detachment. It was necessary to turn a deaf ear to the cries and prayers of many wounded soldiers, who, with horror and abject fear written on every feature of their countenances, were the helpless witnesses of the retreating files of their comrades. On the other hand, the American lay in his blood, regarding the passing detachment with a stern and indignant eye, that appeared to look far beyond his individual suffering. Over one body, Lionel pulled the reins of his horse, and he paused a moment to consider the spectacle. It was the lifeless form of a man, whose white locks, hollow cheeks, and emaciated frame, denoted that the bullet which had stricken him to the earth had anticipated the irresistible decrees of time but a very few days. He had fallen on his back, and his glazed eye expressed, even in death, the honest resentment he had felt while living; and his palsied hand continued to grasp the fire-lock, old and time-worn, like its owner, with which he had taken the field in behalf of his country.
“Where can a contest end which calls such champions to its aid!” exclaimed Lionel, observing that the shadow of another spectator fell across the wan features of the dead—“who can tell where this torrent of blood can be stayed, or how many are to be its victims!”
Receiving no answer, he raised his eyes, and discovered that he had unwittingly put this searching question to the very man whose rashness had precipitated the war. It was the major of marines, who sat looking at the sight, for a minute, with an eye as vacant as the one that seemed to throw back his gaze, and then rousing from his trance, he buried his rowels in the flanks of his horse, and disappeared in the smoke that enveloped a body of the grenadiers, waving his sword, and shouting—
“On—push on with the advance!”
Major Lincoln slowly followed, musing on the scene he had witnessed, when, to his surprise, he encountered Polwarth, seated on a rock by the roadside, looking with a listless and dull eye at the retreating columns. Checking his charger, he inquired of his friend if he were hurt.
“Only melted,” returned the captain; “I have outdone the speed of man this day, Major Lincoln, and can do no more. If you see any of my friends in dear England, tell them that I met my fate as a soldier should, stationary; though I am actually melting away in rivulets, like the snows of April.”
“Good God! you will not remain here to be slain by the Provincials, by whom you see we are completely enveloped?”
“I am preparing a speech for the first Yankee who may approach. If he be a true man he will melt into tears at my sufferings this day—if a savage, my heirs will be spared the charges of my funeral.”
Lionel would have continued his remonstrances, but a fierce encounter between a flanking party of the troops and a body of Americans, drove the former close upon him, and leaping the wall he rallied his comrades, and turned the tide of battle in their favour. He was drawn far from the spot by the vicissitudes of the combat, and there was a moment, while passing from one body of the troops to another, that he found himself unexpectedly alone, in a most dangerous vicinity to a small wood. The hurried call of “pick off that officer,” first aroused him to his extreme danger, and he had mechanically bowed himself on the neck of his charger, in expectation of the fatal messengers, when a voice was heard among the Americans, crying, in tones that caused every nerve in his body to thrill—
“Spare him! for the love of that God you worship, spare him!”
The overwhelming sensations of the moment prevented flight, and the young man beheld Ralph, running with frantic gestures, along the skirts of the cover, beating up the fire-arms of twenty Americans, and repeating his cries in a voice that did not seem to belong to a human being—then, in the confusion which whirled through his brain, Lionel thought himself a prisoner, as a man, armed with a long rifle, glided from the wood, and laid his hand on the rein of his bridle, saying earnestly—
“’Tis a bloody day, and God will remember it; but if Major Lincoln will ride straight down the hill, the people wont fire for fear of hitting Job—and when Job fires, he’ll shoot that granny who’s getting over the wall, and there’ll never be a stir about it in Funnel-Hall.”
Lionel wheeled away quicker than thought, and as his charger took long and desperate leaps down the slight declivity, he heard the shouts of the Americans behind him, the crack of Job’s rifle, and the whizzing of the bullet which the lad sent, as he had promised, in a direction to do him no harm. On gaining a place of comparative safety, he found Pitcairn in the act of abandoning his bleeding horse, the close and bitter attacks of the Provincials rendering it no longer safe for an officer to be seen riding on the flanks of the detachment. Lionel, though he valued his steed highly, had also received so many intimations of the dangerous notice he attracted, that he was soon obliged to follow this example, and he saw, with deep regret, the noble animal scouring across the fields with a loose rein, snorting and snuffing the tainted air. He now joined a party of the combatants on foot, and continued to animate them to new exertions during the remainder of the tedious way.
From the moment the spires of Boston met the view of the troops, the struggle became intensely interesting. New vigour was imparted to their weary frames by the cheering sight, and assuming once more the air of martial training, they bore up against the assaults of their enemies with renewed spirit. On the other hand, the Americans seemed aware that the moments of vengeance were passing swiftly away, and boys, and grey-headed men, the wounded and the active, crowded around their invaders, eager to obtain a parting blow. Even the peaceful ministers of God were known to take the field on that memorable occasion, and, mingling with their parishioners, to brave every danger in a cause which they believed in consonance with their holy calling. The sun was sinking over the land, and the situation of the detachment had become nearly desperate, when Percy abandoned the idea of reaching the Neck, across which he had proudly marched that morning from Boston, and strained every nerve to get the remainder of his command within the peninsula of Charlestown. The crests and the sides of the heights were alive with men, and as the shades of evening closed about the combatants, the bosoms of the Americans beat high with hope, while they witnessed the faltering steps and slackened fire of the troops. But high discipline, finally so far prevailed as to snatch the English from the very grasp of destruction, and enabled them to gain the narrow entrance to the desired shelter, just as night had come apparently to seal their doom.
Lionel stood leaning against a fence, as this fine body of men, which a few hours before had thought themselves equal to a march through the colonies,† defiled slowly and heavily by him, dragging their weary and exhausted limbs up the toilsome ascent of Bunker-Hill. The eyes of most of the officers were bent to the earth in shame; and the common herd, even in that place of security, cast anxious glances behind them, to assure themselves that the despised inhabitants of the Province were no longer pressing on their footsteps. Platoon after platoon passed, each man compelled to depend on his own wearied limbs for support, until Lionel at last saw a solitary horseman slowly ascending among the crowd. To his utter amazement and great joy, as this officer approached, he beheld Polwarth, mounted on his own steed, riding towards him, with a face of the utmost complacency and composure. The dress of the captain was torn in many places, and the housings of the saddle were cut into ribands, while here and there a spot of clotted blood, on the sides of the beast, served to announce the particular notice the rider had received from the Americans. The truth was soon extorted from the honest soldier. The love of life had returned with the sight of the abandoned charger. He acknowledged it had cost him his watch to have the beast caught; but once established in the saddle, no danger, nor any remonstrances, could induce him to relinquish a seat which he found so consoling after all the fatigue and motion of that evil day, in which he had been compelled to share in the calamities of those who fought on the side of the crown, in the memorable battle of Lexington.
* It is matter of history, that the English light brigade was received into the centre of the reinforcements, where the men threw themselves on the ground, as here described. The whole of this account is believed to be true, with the exception of the events connected with the characters of the tale. [1832]
† It should never be forgotten, that an English officer of rank had declared, in his place in parliament, that 2000 English soldiers could force their way through all the American provinces. [1832]