Chapter X: Appendix

_Note to the Resurrectionists._—GHOST IN THE GRAVE YARD.—In New-England, most of the burying-grounds as they are called, are at some distance from the villages, and generally neglected and rude in their appearance, frequently overgrown with wild, dank weeds, and surrounded by rough stone walls.—Dr. W., a physician, whose extensive practice gave him a large circuit of country to ride over, relates that returning late one night from visiting a patient who was dangerously ill, his attention was attracted by a human figure clad in white, perched upon the top of the stone wall of one of these rustic cemeteries.—The moon was shining cold and clear, and he drew up his horse for a moment, and gazed steadily at the object, supposing that he was labouring under an optical illusion, but it remained immoveable and he was convinced, however singular the position and the hour, that his eyesight had not deceived him. Being a man of strong nerves, he determined to examine it, whether human or supernatural, more closely, and leaping his horse up the bank of the road he proceeded along the side of the fence towards the object. It remained perfectly motionless until he came opposite and within a few feet, when it vanished from the fence, and in another instant, with a piercing shriek, was clinging round his neck upon the horse.—This was too much, for even the Doctor’s philosophy, and relieving himself with a violent exertion from the grasp, he flung the figure from him, and putting spurs to his horse galloped into the village at full speed, a torrent of ghostly lore and diablerie pouring through his mind as he dashed along. Arousing the occupants of the nearest house, they returned to the scene of the adventure, where they found the object of his terror,—a poor female maniac who had escaped from confinement in a neighbouring alms-house, wandering among the tombs.

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_Note to Old Kennedy, No. I._—CAPT. SOMERS.[3]—The name of Somers, the twin brother in arms of Decatur, shines brightly on the History of American Naval Warfare; and the last desperate action which terminated his short and brilliant career with his life, is stamped in colours so indelible, that nothing but the destroying finger of Time can efface it from its pages. After severe and continued fighting before Tripoli, the Turkish flotilla withdrew within the mole, and could not be induced to venture themselves beyond the guns of the Tripolitan Battery. The ketch Intrepid was fitted out as a fire-ship, filled to the decks with barrels of gunpowder, shells, pitch, and other combustible materials; and Capt. Somers, with a volunteer crew, undertook the hazardous, almost desperate, task, of navigating her, in the darkness of night, into the middle of the Turkish flotilla, when the train was to be fired, and they were to make their escape, as they best could in her boats.

Lieutenants Wadsworth and Israel were the only officers allowed to join expedition, which was comprised of a small crew of picked men. The Intrepid was escorted as far as was prudent by three vessels of the squadron, who hove to, to avoid suspicion, and to be ready to pick up the boats upon their return: the Constitution, under easy sail in the offing.

Many a brave heart could almost hear its own pulsations in those vessels, as she became more and more indistinct, and gradually disappeared in the distance. They watched for some time with intense anxiety, when a heavy cannonade was opened from the Turkish batteries, which, by its flashes, discovered the ketch determinedly progressing on her deadly errand. She was slowly and surely making for the entrance of the mole, when the whole atmosphere suddenly blazed as if into open day; the mast with all its sails shot high up in the air; shells whizzed, rocket like, exploding in every direction; a deafening roar followed and all sunk again into the deepest pitchy darkness. The Americans waited—waited—in anxious—at last sickening suspense. Their companions came not—the hours rolled on—no boat hailed—no oar splashed in the surrounding darkness. The East grew grey with the dawn—the sun shone brightly above the horizon, nought but a few shattered vessels lying near the shore—the flotilla—the batteries—and the minarets of Tripoli, gilded by the morning sunbeams, met their gaze. Those noble spirits had written their history. Whether consigned to eternity by a shot of the enemy, prematurely exploding the magazine, or from the firing of the train by their own hands, must always remain untold and unknown.

[3] The U. S. Brig Somers, in which the late daring mutiny was suppressed by the prompt and decided measures of Lt. Alexander Slidell McKenzie, was named after this hero of the Tripolitan war.

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_Note to Old Kennedy. No. III._—“THE PARTING BLESSING.”—An officer of the Lawrence engaged in this desperate action informed the writer, that he observed, in the latter part of the battle, the captain of one of the guns, who was a perfect sailor, and remarkable for his neatness and fine personal appearance, ineffectually endeavouring to work his gun himself, after all its crew had fallen. He was badly wounded by a grape shot in the leg; and although in that situation, he was supporting himself on the other, while he struggled at the tackle to bring the piece to bear. The officer told him that he had better leave the gun, and join one of the others, or, as he was badly wounded, go below. “No—no, sir,”—said the brave tar,—“I’ve loaded her, and if I’ve got to go below, it shan’t be before _I give ’em a parting blessing_!” The officer then himself assisted him in running the gun out of the port. The sailor, taking a good and deliberate aim, discharged her into the British ship, and then dragged himself down to the cockpit, fully satisfied with the parting compliment that he had paid the enemy. General Jackson, during his administration, granted the man a pension.

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_Note to Old Kennedy. No. IV._—EXPLOSION AT CRANEY ISLAND.—One of the oldest of the surgeons now in the navy, who was present when the British were defeated in their attempt to cut out the Constellation at Craney’s Island, in Hampton Roads, in the last war, relates the following anecdote.

The fire of the Americans was so heavy, that the British flotilla was soon obliged to retire, a number of their boats having been disabled by the cannon shot—one, in particular, having been cut in two, sunk, leaving the men struggling in the water for their lives. It was thought that it contained an officer of rank, as the other boats hurried to her assistance, and evinced much agitation until the individual alluded to was saved. But to let the doctor tell his own story:—

“Well, they retreated, and we made prisoners of those whose boats having been cut up, were struggling in the water. Among others, there was a fine looking fellow, a petty officer, who had been wounded by the same shot that had sunk the boat; so I got him up to the hospital-tent, and cut off his leg above the knee, and having made him comfortable, (!) walked out upon the beach, with my assistant for a stroll. We had not gone far, when we were both thrown upon our backs by a violent shock which momentarily stunned us. On recovering ourselves, we observed the air filled with cotton descending like feathers. We did not know how to account for the phenomenon, till, advancing some distance farther, we found a soldier lying apparently dead, with his musket by his side. I stooped down, and found that the man was wounded in the head, a splinter having lodged just over the temple. As I drew out the splinter, he raised himself, and stared stupidly about him. I asked him what he was doing there?—“I’m standing ground over the tent, sir,” he replied. What tent?—“Why sir, the tent that had the gunpowder in it.” How came it to blow up—what set it on fire?—“I don’t know, sir.” Did nobody come along this way?—“Yes, sir; a man came along with a cigar in his mouth, and asked if he might go in out of the sun; I told him, yes!—and he went in, and sat himself down—and that is the last that I recollect, until I found you standing over me here.” Upon going a few hundred feet farther, we found a part, and still farther on, the remainder of the body of the unfortunate man, who ignorantly had been the cause of the explosion, as well as his own death. He was so completely blackened and burnt that it would have been impossible, from his colour, to have distinguished him from a negro.”

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_Note to Hudson River._—MILITARY ACADEMY AT WEST-POINT.—West-Point, with her majestic scenery—her savage mountains—the river winding at their feet—her military ruins rising among the forest-trees—her fine architectural edifices—her flag proudly floating from its staff against the back-ground of pure blue ether—her bright and elastic youth, in all “the pomp and circumstance of war”—now marching on the broad and verdant plain, in glittering battalion—now as cavalry, spurring their snorting horses in close squadron—now with light artillery hidden in the smoke of their rapid evolutions—now calculating amid the bray of mortars, the curving course of bombs—measuring the ricochetting shot bounding from the howitzers—amid the roar of heavy cannon, watching the balls as they shiver the distant targets.—West-Point, enveloped in its spicy mountain breezes—West-Point—its romantic walks—its melodious birds, warbling in ecstacy among its trees—its heroic monuments—its revolutionary relics—its associations, past and present—is, to the tourist, poetry—but to the cadet—sober, sober prose. Incessant study—severe drilling—arduous examinations—alike amid the sultry heats of summer, and intense cold of winter, mark the four years of his stay, with a continual round of labour and application:—application so severe that health frequently gives way under the trial. None but the most robust and hardy in constitution, can sustain the fatigue and labour. But few, nursed in the lap of wealth, are willing to undergo its hardships; yet, though the far greater part of the number are from what are called the hardy, certainly not the opulent part of the community; under the cry of aristocracy, the Academy is made a standing mark for the attacks of the radicals in the Federal and State legislatures. Of all the places of public instruction in the country—in a national point of view—it is the most important; for while it furnishes to the army a corps of officers acknowledgedly unsurpassed in military and scientific attainments by that of any service in Europe—officers, whose names are synonymous with modesty and honour, it is of incalculable importance in furnishing to the country, commanders and instructors for the militia in time of war, and engineers for the constant plans of public improvement in peace. West-Point proudly boasts that not one of her sons has ever disgraced himself, or his country, in the face of the enemy. She can, with equal pride, point to almost every work of importance in the country, and say, “There too, is their handywork.” While the noble works of defence on the frontiers and sea-board bear testimony to the talent and science of Totten, Thayer, and other gentlemen of the corps of engineers, the railroads, aqueducts and canals of the States bear equal witness to the energies of Douglass, McNeill, Whistler, and other officers, who have entered the walks of private life.

Well would it be in this disorganizing age, if, instead of prostrating this, every State had within her borders a similar institution as a nucleus of order, discipline, and obedience. The following extract of a letter from an officer who stands high in the service, may not be uninteresting to the reader.

February 16, 1843.

“I send you herewith a part of the information which you
required in your last letter. The Military Academy is a great
honour to the country, and is so understood abroad. I have
frequently heard foreign officers express their opinion,
that it was equal to any institution in Europe, and I was
particularly gratified when I was abroad, to find the English
officers so jealous of it. They seemed to understand very
distinctly, that, although the policy of the country prevented
our sustaining a standing army, that we had yet kept up with
the age in military science; and stood ready prepared with a
body of officers, well educated in scientific knowledge, to
supply a large army for efficient and vigorous operations.

“The whole number of graduates at the Academy since its
foundation, is 1167. Of this number there have died in service,
168. There have been killed in battle, 24. Of those wounded in
service, there is no record. The number of those who have died
since 1837, is 1 major, 17 captains, 21 first lieutenants, and
9 second lieutenants.

“The rank of those killed since 1837, was 1 lieutenant-colonel,
2 captains, 3 first lieutenants, and 2 second lieutenants.
The rank of those killed previous to that time can only be
ascertained by great care in revising the Registers. The
enemies of the Academy have charged, that men have been
educated and resigned without performing service in the army.
This is not so. Besides, the term of service in the Academy,
where they are liable at any time to be called upon and sent to
the extremes of the Union, they are obliged by law, to serve
four years after they have graduated, and in fact, they seldom
do resign, unless they are treated unfairly by government, and
the proportion of resignations of officers appointed from
civil life, is much greater than from those that have graduated
at the Academy. A large number of resignations took place in
1836, which was attributable to high salaries offered for civil
engineers, and to the general disgust which pervaded the army,
upon the constitution of two regiments of dragoons, when the
appointments were made almost exclusively from civilians, and
officers of long-standing and arduous service in the army found
themselves outranked by men of no experience, and who had done
no service. You can have no idea of the injustice which was
done on that occasion. The ambition of many of the officers was
broken down, and they retired in disgust.”

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_Note to Fort Erie._—THE DYING SOLDIER.—“On the day preceding the night attack,” said the Major, “while the enemy were throwing an incessant discharge of shot and shells into our works, I observed at a little distance beyond me a group of people collected on the banquette of the rampart; I approached and found that one of the militia had been mortally wounded by a cannot shot, and that, supported by his comrades, he was dictating with his dying breath his last words to his family. “Tell them,” said he, “that—that—I d-i-e-d l-i-k-e a b-r-a-v-e m-a-n—fig-h—fig-h-t—” and here his breath failed him, and he sunk nearly away—but rousing himself again with a desperate exertion—”b-r-a-v-e m-a-n—fight-in-g for—for—my c-o-u-n-try,”—and he expired with the words upon his lips.”

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_Night Attack on Fort Erie._—THE OFFICER’S SABRE.—The writer saw in the possession of Major ——, a beautiful scimitar-shaped sabre, with polished steel scabbard; the number of the regiment, (119th, he thinks,) embossed on its blade, which one of the soldiers picked up and brought in from among the scattered arms and dead bodies in front of the works on the following morning. The white leathern belt was cut in two, probably by a grape shot or musket ball, and saturated with blood. Whether its unfortunate owner was killed, or wounded only, of course could not be known. It was a mute and interesting witness of that night’s carnage—and had undoubtedly belonged to some officer who had been in Egypt, and had relinquished the straight European sabre, for this favourite weapon of the Mameluke.

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_Note to Attack on Fort Erie, and Battle of Lundy’s Lane._—These two articles elicited the following reply from the pen of an officer of the U. S. army, who has, alas! since it was written, fallen before the hand of the grim tyrant, whose blow never falls but in death. The authenticity of the statement can be relied upon, as the documents from whence it was derived, were the papers of Major-General Brown, and other high officers engaged in the campaign. It is proper to observe, that in the rambling sketch of a tourist, where a mere cursory description was all that was aimed at, the apparent injustice done to that gallant officer and eminently skilful soldier, Major-General Brown, (who certainly ought to have been placed more prominently in the foreground,) was entirely unintentional. The officer alluded to was under the impression that Colonel Wood’s remains were never recovered, and that consequently the monument erected to his memory at West-Point does not rest upon them. Much of the material of the two articles (eliciting these comments) was derived from conversations with another highly accomplished and now retired officer of the U. S. army; and as they were published without his knowledge, the writer inserts the following reply made to the strictures at the time:

... “Deeming that ‘a local habitation and a name’ may be
affixed to my friend the ‘Major,’ and that he may be considered
responsible for inaccuracies for which others alone are
accountable, I hasten to say, that in the description of the
battle at Lundy’s Lane, (with the exception of some of the
personal anecdotes,) the title is retained merely as a _nom de
guerre_ to carry the reader through the different phases of
the action. The description of the night attack on Fort Erie,
as well as that of the character and personal appearance of
Lieutenant-Colonel Wood, is, however, almost literally that
given at the fireside of my friend. The information received
from the British camp on the following morning, through a
flag, was, as near as could be ascertained, that Colonel
Wood had been bayonetted to death on the ground; and my
impression was that his body had been subsequently identified
and returned. But as your correspondent, apparently a brother
officer, speaks so decidedly, I presume he is correct. Far
more agreeable to me would it have been to have remained under
the delusion, that the bones of that gallant and accomplished
soldier slept under the green plateau of West Point, than the
supposition that even now they may be restlessly whirling in
some dark cavern of the cataracts. The account of the battle at
Lundy’s Lane was compiled from one of the earlier editions of
Brackenridge’s History of the Late War, (I think the third,)
the only written authority that I had upon the subject, and
from conclusions drawn from rambles and casual conversations
on the battle-ground. In how far a rough sketch, which was all
that was aimed at, has been conveyed from that authority, the
reader, as well as your correspondent, can best determine by
referring to the history alluded to.” The desperate bayonet
charge is thus described in that work, fourth edition, p.
269-270.

... “The enemy’s artillery occupied a hill which was the key
to the whole position, and it would be in vain to hope for
victory while they were permitted to retain it. Addressing
himself to Colonel Miller, he inquired whether he could
storm the batteries at the head of the twenty-first, while
he would himself support him with the younger regiment, the
twenty-third? To this the wary, but intrepid veteran replied,
in an unaffected phrase, ‘I’ll try, sir;’[4] words which were
afterwards given as the motto of his regiment.

... “The twenty-third was formed in close column under its
commander, Major McFarland, and the first regiment, under
Colonel Nicholas, was left to keep the infantry in check. The
two regiments moved on to one of the most perilous charges
ever attempted; the whole of the artillery opened upon them as
they advanced, supported by a powerful line of infantry. The
twenty-first advanced steadily to its purpose; the twenty-third
faltered on receiving the deadly fire of the enemy, but was
soon rallied by the personal exertions of General Ripley. When
within a hundred yards of the summit, they received another
dreadful discharge, by which Major McFarland was killed, and
the command devolved on Major Brooks. To the amazement of the
British, the intrepid Miller firmly advanced, until within a
few paces of their line, when he impetuously charged upon the
artillery, which, after a short but desperate resistance,
yielded their whole battery, and the American line was in a
moment formed in the rear upon the ground previously occupied
by the British infantry. In carrying the larger pieces, the
twenty-first suffered severely; Lieutenant Cilley, after an
unexampled effort, fell wounded by the side of the piece which
he took: there were but few of the officers of this regiment
who were not either killed or wounded.

“So far as I can recollect, the personal narrative of my friend
was as follows: Miller, quietly surveying the battery, coolly
replied—‘I’ll try, sir;’ then turning to his regiment, drilled
to beautiful precision, said, ‘Attention, twenty-first.’ He
directed them as they rushed up the hill, to deliver their fire
at the port-lights of the artillerymen, and to immediately
carry the guns at the point of the bayonet. In a very short
time they moved on to the charge, delivered their fire as
directed, and after a furious struggle of a few moments over
the cannon, the battery was in their possession. The words of
caution of the officers, ‘Close up—steady, men—steady,’ I have
heard indifferently ascribed to them at this charge, and at
the desperate sortie from Fort Erie. I am thus particular with
regard to the detail of this transaction, not that I think your
correspondent, any more than myself, regards it as of much
moment, but lest my friend should be considered responsible for
words which he did not utter.

... “To show with what secresy the arrangements were made
for the sortie, it is believed that the enemy was in utter
ignorance of the movement. To confirm him in error, a
succession of trusty spies were sent to him in the character
of deserters up to the close of day of the 16th; and so little
did the army know of what were General Brown’s plans for that
day, that even if an officer had gone over to the enemy, the
information he could have given must have been favourable to
the meditated enterprise, as no one had been consulted but
General Porter, and the engineers Colonels McRae and Wood.

“At nine o’clock in the evening of the 16th, the
general-in-chief called his assistant adjutant-general, Major
Jones, and after explaining concisely his object, ordered
him to see the officers whom the General named and direct
them to his tent. The officers General Brown had selected
to have the honour of leading commands on the 17th came; he
explained to them his views and determinations, and enjoyed
much satisfaction at seeing that his confidence had not been
misplaced. They left him to prepare for the duty assigned to
them on the succeeding day. At twelve o’clock the last agent
was sent to the enemy in the character of a deserter, and
aided, by disclosing all he knew, to confirm him in security.

“The letter, of which the following is an extract, was written
by General Brown to the Department of War early in the morning
of the 25th July, 1814:

“‘As General Gaines informed me that the Commodore was in
port, and as he did not know when the fleet would sail, or
when the guns and troops that I had been expecting would even
leave Sackett’s Harbour, I have thought it proper to change my
position with a view to other objects.’

“General Scott, with the first brigade, Towson’s artillery,
all the dragoons and mounted men, was accordingly put in
march towards Queenston. He was particularly instructed to
report if the enemy appeared, and to call for assistance if
that was necessary. Having command of the dragoons, he would
have, it was supposed, the means of intelligence. On General
Scott’s arrival near the Falls, he learned that the enemy was
in force directly in his front, a narrow piece of woods alone
intercepting his view of them. Waiting only to despatch this
information, but not to receive any in return, the General
advanced upon him.

“Hearing the report of cannon and small arms, General Brown
at once concluded that a battle had commenced between the
advance of his army and the enemy, and without waiting for
information from General Scott, ordered the second brigade
and all the artillery to march as rapidly as possible to his
support, and directed Colonel Gardner to remain and see this
order executed. He then rode with his aids-de-camp, and Major
McRee, with all speed towards the scene of action. As he
approached the Falls, about a mile from Chippeway, he met Major
Jones, who had accompanied General Scott, bearing a message
from him, advising General Brown that he had met the enemy.
From the information given by Major Jones, it was concluded to
order up General Porter’s command, and Major Jones was sent
with this order. Advancing a little further, General Brown
met Major Wood, of the engineers, who also had accompanied
General Scott. He reported that the conflict between General
Scott and the enemy was close and desperate, and urged that
reinforcements should be hurried forward. The reinforcements
were now marching with all possible rapidity. The Major-General
was accompanied by Major Wood to the field of battle. Upon
his arrival, he found that General Scott had passed the wood,
and engaged the enemy upon the Queenston road and the ground
to the left of it, with the 9th, 11th, and 22d regiments, and
Towson’s artillery. The 25th had been detached to the right
to be governed by circumstances. Apprehending these troops to
be much exhausted, notwithstanding the good front they showed,
and knowing that they had suffered severely in the contest,
General Brown determined to form and interpose a new line
with the advancing troops, and thus disengage General Scott,
and hold his brigade in reserve. By this time Captains Biddle
and Ritchie’s companies of artillery had come into action.
The head of General Ripley’s column was nearly up with the
right of General Scott’s line. At this moment the enemy fell
back, in consequence, it was believed, of the arrival of fresh
troops, which they could see and begin to feel. At the moment
the enemy broke, General Scott’s brigade gave a general huzza,
that cheered the whole line. General Ripley was ordered to
pass his line and display his column in front. The movement
was commenced in obedience to the order. Majors McRee and Wood
had rapidly reconnoitered the enemy and his position. McRee
reported that he appeared to have taken up a new position with
his line, and with his artillery, to have occupied a height
which gave him great advantages it being the key of the whole
position. To secure the victory, it was necessary to carry
this height, and seize his artillery. McRee was ordered by the
Major-General to conduct Ripley’s command on the Queenstown
road, with a view to that object, and prepare the 21st regiment
under Colonel Miller for the duty.

“The second brigade immediately advanced on the Queenston
road. Gen. Brown, with his aids-de-camp and Major Wood passing
to the left of the second brigade in front of the first,
approached the enemy’s artillery, and observed an extended
line of infantry formed for its support. A detachment of the
first regiment of infantry, under command of Col. Nicolas,
which arrived that day, and was attached to neither of the
brigades, but had marched to the field of battle in the rear
of the second, was ordered promptly to break off to the
left, and form a line facing the enemy on the height, with a
view of drawing his fire and attracting his attention, while
Col. Miller advanced with the bayonet upon his left flank to
carry his artillery. As the first regiment, led by Major Wood
and commanded by Col. Nicolas, approached its position, the
commanding General rode to Col. Miller, and ordered him to
charge and carry the enemy’s artillery with the bayonet. He
replied in a tone of great promptness and good humour—‘It shall
be done, Sir.’

“At this moment the first regiment gave way under the fire
of the enemy; but Col. Miller, without regard to this
circumstance, advanced steadily to his object, and carried
the height and the cannon in a style rarely equalled—never
excelled. At this point of time when Col. Miller moved, the 23d
regiment was on his right, a little in the rear. Gen. Ripley
led this regiment: it had some severe fighting, and in a degree
gave way, but was promptly re-formed, and brought upon the
right of the 21st, with which were connected a detachment of
the 17th and 19th.

“Gen. Ripley being now with his brigade, formed a line, (the
enemy having been driven from his commanding ground) with the
captured cannon, nine pieces in the rear. The first regiment
having been rallied, was brought into line by Lt. Col. Nicolas
on the left of the second brigade; and Gen. Porter coming up
at this time, occupied with his command the extreme left. Our
artillery formed the right between the 21st and 23d regiments.
Having given to Col. Miller orders to storm the heights and
carry the cannon as he advanced, Gen. Brown moved from his
right flank to the rear of his left. Maj. Wood and Capt.
Spencer met him on the Queenston road; turning down that road,
he passed directly in the rear of the 23rd, as they advanced
to the support of Col. Miller. The shouts of the American
soldiers on the heights at this moment, assured him of Col.
Miller’s success, and he hastened toward the place, designing
to turn from the Queenston road towards the heights up Lundy’s
Lane. In the act of doing so, Maj. Wood and Capt. Spencer, who
were about a horse’s length before him, were near riding upon
a body of the enemy; and nothing prevented them from doing it
but an officer exclaiming before them, “They are the Yankees.”
The exclamation halted the three American officers, and upon
looking down the road they saw a line of British infantry drawn
up in front of the western fence of the road with its right
resting upon Lundy’s Lane.

“The British officer had, at the moment he gave this alarm,
discovered Maj. Jesup. The Major had, as before observed, at
the commencement of the action, been ordered by Gen. Scott to
take ground to his right.

“He had succeeded in turning the enemy’s left, had captured
Gen. Riall and several other officers, and sent them to camp,
and then, feeling and searching his way silently towards where
the battle was raging, had brought his regiment, the 25th,
after a little comparative loss, up to the eastern fence at
the Queenston road, a little to the north of Lundy’s Lane.
The moment the British gave Jesup notice of having discovered
him, Jesup ordered his command to fire upon the enemy’s line.
The lines could not have been more then four rods apart—Jesup
behind the south fence, the British in front of the north.
The slaughter was dreadful; the enemy fled down the Queenston
road at the third or fourth fire. As the firing ceased,
the Major-General approached Major Jesup, advised him that
Col. Miller had carried the enemy’s artillery, and received
information of the capture of Gen. Riall.

“The enemy having rallied his broken forces and received
reinforcements, was now discovered in good order and in great
force. The commanding General, doubting the correctness of the
information, and to ascertain the truth, passed in person with
his suite in front of our line. He could no longer doubt, as a
more extended line than he had yet seen during the engagement
was near, and advancing upon us. Capt. Spencer, without saying
a word, put spurs to his horse, and rode directly up to the
advancing line, then, turning towards the enemy’s right,
inquired in a strong and firm voice, ‘What regiment is that?’
and was as promptly answered, ‘The Royal Scots, Sir.’

“General Brown and suite then threw themselves behind our
troops without loss of time, and waited the attack. The enemy
advanced slowly and firmly upon us: perfect silence was
observed throughout both armies until the lines approached to
within four to six rods. Our troops had levelled their pieces
and the artillery was prepared,—the order to fire was given.
Most awful was its effect. The lines closed in part before the
enemy was broken. He then retired precipitately, the American
army following him. The field was covered with the slain, but
not an enemy capable of marching was to be seen. We dressed our
men upon the ground we occupied. Gen. Brown was not disposed
to leave it in the dark, knowing it was the best in the
neigbourhood. His intention, then, was to maintain it until
day should dawn, and to be governed by circumstances.

“Our gallant and accomplished foe did not give us much time
for deliberation. He showed himself within twenty minutes,
apparently undismayed and in good order.”

[4] The twenty-first carried the celebrated ‘_I’ll try, Sir_,’ inscribed upon their buttons during the remainder of the war.

Extract of a private letter from the writer of the above article, dated January 15, 1841.

... “As to the fate of the gallant and accomplished Wood.—You
supposed a flag from the enemy reported he had been bayoneted
to death on the ground—like enough, but how did the enemy
recognise his body. Gen. Porter thinks he fell at the close of
the action at battery No. 1, but I never heard that any one saw
him fall.—His body never was recovered. Those of Gibson and
Davis, the leaders of the two other columns in Gen. Porter’s
command, were.

“Soon after the war, McRee, one of the best military engineers
this country ever produced, threw up his commission in disgust
and died of the cholera at St. Louis.

“From the time I lost sight of Gen. Scott in my narrative until
after the change referred to at the end of the narrative, Gen.
Scott with three of his battalions had been held in reserve.
The commander-in-chief now rode in person to Gen. Scott, and
ordered him to advance. That officer was prepared and expected
the call.—As Scott advanced toward Ripley’s left, Gen. Brown
passed to the left to speak with Gen. Porter and see the
condition and countenance of his militia, who, at that moment,
were thrown into some confusion under a most galling and deadly
fire from the enemy: they were, however, kept to their duty by
the exertions of their gallant chiefs, and most nobly sustained
the conflict. The enemy was repulsed and again driven out of
sight. But a short time, however, had elapsed, when he was
once more distinctly seen, in great force, advancing upon our
main line under the command of Ripley and Porter. The direction
that Scott had given his column would have enabled him in five
minutes, to have formed a line in the rear of the enemy’s
right, and thus have brought him between two fires. But in a
moment most unexpected, a flank fire from a party of the enemy,
concealed upon our left, falling upon the centre of Scott’s
command, when in open column, blasted our proud expectations.
His column was severed in two; one part passing to the rear,
the other by the right flank of platoons towards the main line.
About this period Gen. Brown received his first wound, a musket
ball passing through his right thigh and _carrying away his
watch seal_, a few minutes after Capt. Spencer received his
mortal wound....

“This was the last desperate effort made by the enemy to regain
his position and artillery....

“Porter’s volunteers were not excelled by the regulars
during this charge. They were soon precipitated by their
heroic commander upon the enemy’s line, which they broke and
dispersed, making many prisoners. The enemy now seemed to be
effectually routed; they disappeared....

“At the commencement of the action, Col. Jesup was detached
to the left of the enemy, with the discretionary order, to be
governed by circumstances.—The commander of the British forces
had committed a fault by leaving a road unguarded on his left.
Col. Jesup, taking advantage of this, threw himself promptly
into the rear of the enemy, where he was enabled to operate
with brilliant enterprise and the happiest effect. The capture
of Gen. Riall, with a large escort of officers of rank, was
part of the trophies of his intrepidity and skill. It is not,
we venture to assert, bestowing on him too much praise to say,
that to his achievements, more than to those of any other
individual, is to be attributed the preservation of the first
brigade from utter annihilation.

“Among the officers captured by Col. Jesup, was Capt. Loring,
one of General Drummond’s aid-de-camps, who had been despatched
from the front line to order up the reserve, with a view to
fall on Scott with the concentrated force of the whole army
and overwhelm him at a single effort. Nor would it have been
possible to prevent this catastrophe, had the reserve arrived
in time; the force with which General Scott would have been
obliged to contend being nearly quadruple that of his own. By
the fortunate capture, however, of the British aid-de-camp,
before the completion of the service on which he had been
ordered, the enemy’s reserve was not brought into action until
the arrival of Gen. Ripley’s brigade, which prevented the
disaster that must otherwise have ensued, and achieved, in the
end, one of the most honourable victories that ever shed lustre
upon the arms of a nation....”

* * * * *

_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—RAINBOW OF THE CATARACT.—The afternoon of the action presented one of those delicious summer scenes in which all nature appears to be breathing in harmony and beauty.—As General Scott’s brigade came in view, and halted in the vicinity of the cataracts, the mist rising from the falls, was thrown in upon the land, arching the American force with a vivid and gorgeous rainbow, the left resting on the cataract, and the right lost in the forest. Its brilliance and beauty was such, that it excited not only the enthusiasm of the officers, but even the camp followers were filled with admiration.

* * * * *

_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE DAY AFTER THE BATTLE.—“I rode to the battle-ground about day-light on the following morning, without witnessing the presence of a single British officer or soldier. The dead had not been removed through the night, and such a scene of carnage I never before beheld.—Red coats, blue, and grey, promiscuously intermingled, _in many places three deep_, and around the hill where the enemy’s artillery was carried by Colonel Miller, the carcasses of sixty or seventy horses added to the horror of the scene.”—_Private Letter of an Officer._

The dead were collected and burnt in funeral piles, made of rails, on the field where they had fallen.

* * * * *

_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—THE TWO SERGEANTS.—For several days after the action, the country people found the bodies of soldiers who had straggled off into the woods, and died of their wounds.—At some distance from the field of battle, and entirely alone, were found the bodies of two sergeants, American and English, transfixed by each other’s bayonets, lying across each other, where they had fallen in deadly duel. It is rare that individual combat takes place under such circumstances in the absence of spectators to cheer on the combatants by their approval, and this incident conveys some idea of the desperation which characterised the general contest on that night. Yet in this lonely and brief tragedy, these two men were enacting parts, which to them were as momentous as the furious conflict of the masses in the distance.

* * * * *

_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPTAIN HULL.—Captain Hull, a son of General Hull, whose unfortunate surrender at Detroit created so much odium, fell in this battle. He led his men into the midst of the heaviest fire of the enemy, and after they were almost if not all destroyed, plunged sword in hand into the centre of the British column, fighting with the utmost desperation until he was literally impaled upon their bayonets.

In the pocket of this gallant and generous young officer, was found a letter, avowing his determination to signalize the name or to fall in the attempt.

* * * * *

_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—SCOTT’S BRIGADE.—Part of Gen. Scott’s command were dressed in grey—(probably the fatigue dress)—at the battle of Chippewa. An English company officer relates, that—“Advancing at the head of my men, I saw a body of Americans drawn up, dressed in grey uniform. Supposing them to be militia, I directed my men to fire, and immediately charge bayonet.—What was my surprise, to find as the smoke of our fire lifted from the ground, that instead of flying in consternation from our destructive discharge, the supposed militia were coming down upon us at ‘double quick’—at the charge. In two minutes I stood alone, my men having given way, without waiting to meet the shock.”

* * * * *

_Note to Lundy’s Lane._—DEATH OF CAPT. SPENCER.—Capt. Spencer, aid-de-camp to Maj. Gen. Brown, a son of the Hon. Ambrose Spencer, was only eighteen years of age at the time that he closed his brief career. He was directed by Gen. Brown to carry an order to another part of the field, and to avoid a more circuitous route, he chivalrously galloped down, exposed to the heavy fire in the front of the line, eliciting the admiration of both armies, but before he reached the point of his destination, two balls passed through his body, and he rolled from his saddle.

The following letter to Gen. Armstrong, Secretary of War, will show in what estimation he was held by Gen. Brown:—

Copy of a letter from Major Gen. Brown, to Gen. Armstrong,
Secretary of War.

“HEAD QUARTERS, FORT ERIE, 20th September, 1814.

“SIR—Among the officers lost to this army, in the battle of
Niagara Falls, was my aid-de-camp, Captain Ambrose Spencer, who
being mortally wounded, was obliged to be left in the hands
of the enemy. By flags from the British army, I was shortly
afterwards assured of his convalescence, and an offer was made
me by Lieutenant General Drummond, to exchange him for his own
aid, Captain Loring, then a prisoner of war with us. However
singular this proposition appeared, as Captain Loring was not
wounded, nor had received the slightest injury, I was willing
to comply with it on Captain Spencer’s account. But as I knew
his wounds were severe, I first sent to ascertain the fact of
his being then living. My messenger, with a flag, was detained,
nor even once permitted to see Captain Spencer, though in his
immediate vicinity.

“The evidence I wished to acquire failed; but my regard for
Captain Spencer, would not permit me longer to delay, and I
informed General Drummond, that his aid should be exchanged,
even for the _body_ of mine. This offer was, no doubt, gladly
accepted, and the _corpse_ of Captain Spencer sent to the
American shore.”

* * * * *

_Note to MONTREAL._—The custom of emblazoning on the flags, and other military insignia of the regiments, the actions in which they have signalized themselves, obtaining in the British and other European services, is not now allowed in that of the United States, on the score of its aristocratic tendency! Although, perhaps, in the instance alluded to, the stupidity of the individual prevented him from understanding their meaning; still, to the more intelligent of the soldiers, they are no doubt a great incentive to uphold the honour of the regiment.

* * * * *

_Note to LAKE GEORGE AND TICONDEROGA._—This important position, situated on Lake Champlain near the foot of the Horicon, (called by the English, Lake George, and by the French, St. Sacrament,) was first fortified by the French, and was the point from which they made so many incursions, in conjunction with the Indians, upon the English settlements. Lord Abercrombie led an army of nearly 16,000 men against it in the year 1658; but was defeated with a loss of 2000 men, and one of his most distinguished officers, Lord Howe, who fell at the head of one of the advance columns. In the following year it surrendered to General Amherst, who led a force of nearly equal number against it. Its surprise and capture by Ethan Allen at the commencement of our revolution, is, we presume, familiar to every American, as also the fact of Burgoyne’s getting heavy cannon upon the neighbouring mountain which had heretofore been considered impracticable, and from which the works were entirely commanded. The necessary withdrawal of the army by St. Clair, after blowing up the works, is as related in the text.

* * * * *

_Note to Bass Fishing._—CREW OF THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—In the bloody and heroic defence of the Essex, in which, out of a crew of two hundred and fifty-five men, one hundred and fifty-three were killed and wounded! a number of instances of individual daring and devotion are recorded of the common sailors. Besides the act of Ripley, which is mentioned in the text, one man received a cannon ball through his body, and exclaimed in the agonies of death—“Never mind, shipmates, I die for free trade and sailor’s rights.” Another expired inciting his shipmates to “fight for liberty!”—and another, Benjamin Hazen, having dressed himself in a clean shirt and jacket, threw himself overboard, declaring, that “he would never be incarcerated in an English prison.” An old man-of-war’s-man who was in her, informed the writer, that her sides were so decayed by exposure to the climate in which she had been cruizing, that the dust flew like smoke from every shot that came through the bulwarks, and that at the close of the action, when the Essex was lying perfectly helpless, a target for the two heavy British ships, riddled by every ball from their long guns, without the ability to return a single shot—he was near the quarter-deck and heard Commodore Porter walking up and down with hurried steps, repeatedly strike his breast and exclaim, in great apparent agony—“My Heaven!—is there no shot for me!”

* * * * *

_Note to Bass Fishing._—MUTINY ON BOARD THE ESSEX FRIGATE.—While the Essex was lying at the Marquesas Islands, recruiting and refreshing her crew from one of the long and arduous cruises in the Pacific, Commodore Porter was informed through a servant of one of the officers, that a mutiny had been planned, and was on the eve of consummation. That it was the intention of the mutineers to rise upon the officers—take possession of the ship—and, after having remained as long as they found agreeable at the island, to hoist the black flag and “cruize on their own account.”—Having satisfied himself of the truth of the information, Commodore Porter ascended to the quarter-deck, and ordered all the crew to be summoned aft. Waiting till the last man had come from below, he informed them that he understood that a mutiny was on foot, and that he had summoned them for the purpose of inquiring into its truth.—“Those men who are in favour of standing by the ship and her officers,” said the commodore, “will go over to the starboard side—those who are against them will remain where they are.” The crew, to a man, moved over to the starboard side. The ship was still as the grave. Fixing his eyes on them steadily and sternly for a few moments—the commodore said—“Robert White—step out.” The man obeyed, standing pale and agitated—guilt stamped on every lineament of his countenance—in front of his comrades. The commodore looked at him a moment—then seizing a cutlass from the nearest rack, said, in a suppressed voice, but in tones so deep that they rung like a knell upon the ears of the guilty among the crew—“Villain!—you are the ringleader of this mutiny—jump overboard!” The man dropt on his knees, imploring for mercy—saying that he could not swim. “Then drown, you scoundrel!” said the commodore, springing towards him to cut him down—“overboard instantly!”—and the man jumped over the side of the ship. He then turned to the trembling crew, and addressed them with much feeling—the tears standing upon his bronzed cheek as he spoke. He asked them what he had done, that his ship should be disgraced by a mutiny. He asked whether he had ever dishonoured the flag—whether he had ever treated them with other than kindness—whether they had ever been wanting for any thing to their comfort, that discipline and the rules of the service would allow—and which it was in his power to give. At the close of his address, he said—“Men!—before I came on deck, I laid a train to the magazine!—and I would have blown all on board into eternity, before my ship should have been disgraced by a successful mutiny—I never would have survived the dishonour of my ship!—go to your duty.” The men were much affected by the commodore’s address, and immediately returned to their duty, showing every sign of contrition. They were a good crew, but had been seduced by the allurements of the islands, and the plausible representations of a villain. That they did their duty to their flag, it is only necessary to say—that the same crew fought the ship afterwards against the Phebe, and Cherub, in the harbour of Valparaiso, where, though the American flag descended—it descended in a blaze of glory which will long shine on the pages of history. But mark the sequel of this mutiny—and let those who, _in the calm security of their firesides_, are so severe upon the course of conduct pursued by officers in such critical situations, see how much innocent blood would have been saved, if White had been cut down instantly, or hung at the yard arm. As he went overboard, he succeeded in reaching a canoe floating at a little distance and paddled ashore. Some few months afterwards, when Lieutenant Gamble of the Marines was at the islands, in charge of one of the large prizes, short handed and in distress, this same White, at the head of a party of natives, attacked the ship, killed two of the officers and a number of the men, and it was with great difficulty that she was prevented from falling into their hands. The blood of those innocent men, and the lives of two meritorious officers would have been spared, if the wretch had been put to instant death—as was the commodore’s intention. It will be recollected, that the Essex, in getting under way, out of the harbour of Valparaiso, carried away her foretop-mast in a squall, and being thus unmanageable, came to anchor in the supposed protection of a neutral port—nevertheless the Phebe, frigate, and Cherub, sloop-of-war, attacked her in this position—the former with her long guns, selecting her distance—cutting her up at her leisure—while the Essex, armed only with carronades, lay perfectly helpless—her shot falling short of the Phebe, although they reached the Cherub, which was forced to get out of their range. “I was standing,” said my informant, then a midshipman only fourteen years old, “I was standing at the side of one of our bow chasers, (the only long guns we had,) which we had run aft out of the stern port—when the Phebe bore up, and ran under our stern to rake us. As she came within half-pistol shot (!) she gave us her whole broadside at the same instant.—I recollect it well!” said the officer—“for as I saw the flash, I involuntarily closed my eyes—expecting that she would have blown us out of the water—and she certainly would have sunk us on the spot, but firing too high, her shot cut our masts and rigging all to pieces, doing little injury to the hull. Singular as it may seem, the discharge of our one gun caused more slaughter than the whole of their broadside, for while we had but one man wounded, the shot from our gun killed two of the men at the wheel of the Phebe, and glancing with a deep gouge on the main-mast, mortally wounded her first Lieutenant, who died on the following day.”

* * * * *

_Long Island Sound._—NEW ENGLAND TRADITIONS.—There are few countries where traditions and legends are handed down from generation to generation with more fidelity than in New England, more particularly along the sea-coast and the shores of the Sound. The “fire ship” is supposed even now by the old fishermen to be seen cruising occasionally in the vicinity of Block Island in the furious storms of thunder and lightning. The tradition is, that she was taken by pirates—all hands murdered, and abandoned after being set on fire by the bucaneers. Some accounts state that a large white horse which was on board, was left near the foremast to perish in the flames—and in storms of peculiarly terrific violence that she may be seen, rushing along enveloped in fire, the horse stamping and pawing at the heel of the foremast, her phantom crew assembled at quarters. In the early part of the last century, a ship came ashore a few miles beyond Newport, on one of the beaches—all sails set—the table prepared for dinner, but the food untouched, and no living thing on board of her. It was never ascertained what had become of her crew—but it was supposed that she had been abandoned in some moment of alarm, and that they all perished, although the vessel arrived in safety.

The phantom horse will recall to mind a real incident, which occurred not long since in the conflagration of one of the large steamboats on Lake Erie. A fine race horse was on board, and secured, as is usual, forward. Of course his safety was not looked to, while all were making vain efforts to save themselves from their horrible fate. As the flames came near him he succeeded in tearing himself loose from his fastenings, rushing franticly through the fire and smoke fore and aft, trampling down the unfortunate victims that were in his way, adding still more horror to a scene which imagination can hardly realize, until frenzied with the pain and agony of the fire, he plunged overboard and perished.

But the favourite and most cherished traditions are those relating to hidden treasure. The writer well recollects one to which his attention was attracted in his childhood. Mr. ——, inhabiting one of those fine old mansions in Newport, which had been built fifty years before, by an English gentleman of fortune, where taste and caprice had been indulged to the extreme, and where closets, and beaufets, and cellars, and pantries, appeared to meet one at every turn, was engaged late one winter’s night writing in his study, when he found it necessary to replenish his fire with fuel. The servants having retired, he took a candle and went himself to the cellar to procure it, and as he passed the vault called the “wine cellar,” his attention was attracted by a light streaming through the key-hole of the door. He stopped a moment and called out supposing that some of the family were in the apartment—but instantly the light vanished. He stepped up to the door and endeavoured to open it, but found to his surprise that it was fastened,—a thing that was unusual as the door constantly stood ajar. Calling out again, “who’s there?” without receiving any answer, he placed his foot against the door, and forced it open, when a sight met his eyes, which for a moment chained him to the spot. In the centre of the cellar in a deep grave which had been already dug, and leaning upon his spade, was a brawny negro, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, and the sweat trickling down his glistening black visage, while on the pile of earth made from the excavation, stood another negro, a drawn sword in one hand, a lantern with the light just extinguished in the other, and an open bible with two hazle rods across it, lying at his feet—these swart labourers the moment that the door was thrown open, making the most earnest signs for silence. As soon as Mr. —— could command his voice, he demanded the meaning of what he saw and what they were about. They both simultaneously then declared that the charm was broken by his voice. One of the worthies, who was the groom of the family, had dreamed five nights in succession, that old Mr. E—— the builder of the house, had buried a bootful (!) of gold in that cellar—and on comparing notes with his brother dreamer, he found that his visions also pointed to treasure in the old house, and they had proceeded secundem artem to its attainment, both vehemently declaring that they intended to give part of the treasure to Mr. ——. Of course, the door being opened, the strange negro was required to add the darkness of his visage to that of night, while the groom was on pain of instant dismission, together with the threat of the ridicule of the whole town, directed to fill up the grave, and thereafter to let the buried treasure sleep where its owner had seen fit to deposit it.

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PICTORIAL LIFE OF NAPOLEON.

History of Napoleon Bonaparte, translated from the French of M. Laurent de L’Ardeche, with five hundred spirited illustrations, after designs by Horace Vernet, and twenty original portraits engraved in the best style. Complete in two handsome volumes, octavo, about 500 pages each. $4 00.

PICTORIAL ROBINSON CRUSOE.

The Life and Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel De Foe. With a Memoir of the Author, and an Essay on his Writings, illustrated with nearly 500 spirited Engravings, by the celebrated French artist Grandville, forming one elegant volume, octavo, of 500 pages. $1 75.

PICTORIAL VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.

The Vicar of Wakefield. By Oliver Goldsmith. Elegantly illustrated with 200 hundred Engravings, making a beautiful volume, octavo, of 350 pages. $1 25.

THE AMERICAN IN EGYPT; WITH RAMBLES THROUGH Arabia-Petræa and the Holy Land, during the years 1839-40.

By James Ewing Cooley. Illustrated with numerous Steel Engravings, also Etchings and Designs by Johnston,—one handsome volume octavo, of 610 pages.

No other volume extant can give the reader so true a picture of what he would be likely to see and meet in Egypt. No other book is more practical and plain in its picture of precisely what the traveller himself will meet. Other writers have one account to give of their journey on paper, and another to relate in conversation. Mr. Cooley has but one story for the fireside circle and the printed page.—_Brother Jonathan._

THE DAUGHTERS OF ENGLAND:

Their Position in Society, Character, and Responsibilities. By Mrs. Ellis, author of “The Women of England.” Complete in one handsome volume 12mo. 75 cents.

GEMS FROM TRAVELLERS.

Illustrative of various passages in the Holy Scriptures, with nearly 100 Engravings. Among the authorities quoted will be found the following distinguished names: Haimer, Laborde, Lane, Madden, Clarke, Pocoke, Chandler Malcom, Hartley, Russel, Jowitt, Carne, Shaw, Morier, Neibuhr, Bruce, Calmet, H. Belzoni, Lord Lindsay, &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. $1 00.

SPIRITUAL CHRISTIANITY.

Lectures on Spiritual Christianity. By Isaac Taylor, author of “Spiritual Despotism,” &c. &c. 1 vol. 12mo. $0 75.

NEW WORKS & NEW EDITIONS.

The undersigned have the pleasure of presenting to you a copy of their Catalogue of important Publications in the several departments of Literature. They would particularly direct your attention to that admirable series of devotional works by BISHOP PATRICK, BISHOP WILSON, DOCTOR SUTTON and others, which have received the unqualified commendation of the Church. In a letter received from BISHOP WHITTINGHAM, he says, “I had forgotten to express my _very great satisfaction_ at your commencement of a series of devotional works, lately re-published in Oxford and London.” Again, BISHOP DOANE says of this, “I write to express my thanks to you for reprints of the Oxford books; first, for reprinting such books, and secondly, in such a style I sincerely hope you may be encouraged to go on, and give them all to us. You will dignify the art of printing, and you will do great service to the best interests of the country.” The undersigned also beg to refer to their beautiful edition of the Poetical Works of SOUTHEY, also to that excellent series of “Tales for the People and their Children,” by MARY HOWITT and others, and to that extensive series of popular works for general reading, uniting an interesting style with soundness of Christian principle, such as the works of ARCHBISHOP MAGEE, GUIZOT, JOHN ANGELL JAMES, MISS SINCLAIR, REV. ROBERT PHILIP, REV. AUGUSTUS WM. HARE, JNO. PYE SMITH, FREDERICK AUGUSTUS SCHLEGEL, ISAAC TAYLOR, DR. W. C. TAYLOR, REV. DR. SPRAGUE, &c. &c. They also publish those very popular Voyages and Travels by REV. H. SOUTHGATE, of the Episcopal Mission, and FITCH W. TAYLOR, together with the Memoirs of GENERAL ALEXANDER HAMILTON by his son; and will continue to publish standard and popular works, and trust to merit a continuance of public favour.