Chapter 27

THE END.

1. Hildreth.

2. Hildreth.

3. Bancroft.

4. Bancroft.

5. Hildreth.

6. Ibid.

7. Hildreth.

8. Bancroft.

9. Hildreth.

10. Hildreth.

11. Hildreth.

12. Willson.

13. Willson.

14. Hildreth.

15. Hildreth.

16. Hildreth.

17. Hildreth.

18. Hildreth.

19. Hildreth.

20. Hildreth.

21. Willard.

22. Hildreth.

23. Hildreth.

24. Hildreth.

25. Annual Register, 1779.

26. Annual Register, 1779.

27. Hildreth.

28. Knight’s “Pictorial History of England.”

29. Willard.

30. Hildreth.

31. Annual Register.

32. Hildreth.

33. Hildreth.

34. Hildreth.

35. Hildreth.

36. Annual Register, 1781.

37. Hildreth and Marcius Willson.

38. Mrs. Willard.

39. Hildreth.

40. Hildreth.

41. Annual Register and Hildreth.

42. Hildreth.

43. Annual Register.

44. Hildreth.

45. Hildreth.

46. Annual Register.

47. Annual Register.

48. Annual Register.

49. Hildreth.

50. Willson.

51. Wraxall’s Memoirs.

52. Knight’s “Pictorial History of England.”

53. Knight’s “Pictorial History of England.”

54. Hildreth

55. Hildreth.

56. Hildreth.

57. Hildreth.

58. Hildreth.

59. Hildreth.

60. Hildreth.

61. Hildreth.

62. Hildreth.

63. That is to say, slaves.

64. Hildreth.

65. Jared Sparkes.

66. There are very few national American ballads: so few, indeed, that whenever an historical event has become a portion of popular literature, we may be sure that it took an unusually strong hold on the popular mind, and as having done so it is additionally worthy of the historian’s notice. The BalladSainclaire’s Defeatis a sort of “Chevy Chase” of the Western Territory, and abounds with deep pathos:—’Twas November the fourth, in the year of ninety-one,We had a sore engagement, near to Fort Jefferson;Sainclaire was our commander, which may remembered be,For there we left nine hundred men, in t’West’n Ter’tory.At Bunker’s Hill and Quebeck, where many a hero fell,Likewise at Long Island—it is the truth I tell,—But such a dreadful carnage, may I never see again,As happened at St. Mary’s, upon the river plain.Our army was attacked, just as the day did dawn,And soon was overpowered and driven from the lawn,They killed Major Ouldham, Levin, and Briggs likewise,And horrid yells of sav’ges, resounded through the skies.Major Butler, he was wounded by the very second fire;His manly bosom swelled with rage, when forced to retire;And as he lay in anguish, and scarcely could he see,Exclaimed, “Ye hounds of hell! Oh! revenged will I be.”We had not been long broken, when General Butler found,Himself so badly wounded, was forced to quit the ground.“My God!” says he, “what shall we do? we’re wounded every man;Go charge them, valiant heroes, and beat them if you can.”He leaned his back against a tree, and there resigned his breath,And like a valiant soldier, sank in the arms of death,When blessed angels did await, his spirit to convey,And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his way.We charged again with courage firm, but soon again gave ground,The war-whoop then redoubled, as foes did us surround;They killed good Major Ferguson, which caused his men to cry,“Our only safety is in flight, or fighting here we die!”“Stand to your guns,” says valiant Ford, “let’s die upon them here,Before we let the sav’ges know, we ever harboured fear!”Our cannon-balls exhausted, and artill’ry men all slain,Obliged were our musket-men, the en’my to sustain.Yet three hours more we fought them, and then were forced to yield,Three hundred bloody warriors lay stretched upon the field.Says Colonel Gibson to his men, “My boys, be not dismayed,I am sure that true Virginians were never yet afraid;“Ten thousand deaths I’d rather die, than they should gain the field;”With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him to yield.Says Major Clarke, “My heroes, I can no longer stand;We’ll try to form in order, and retreat the best we can.”The word “retreat” being passed around, there was a dismal cry,Then helter-skelter through the woods, like wolves and sheep they fly.This well-appointed army, which but the day before,Defied and braved all danger, had like a cloud passed o’er.Alas! the dying and wounded, how dreadful was the thought,To the tomahawk and scalping knife, in misery are brought.Some had an arm and some a thigh broke on the field that day,Who writhed in torments at the stake, to close the dire affray.To mention our brave officers is what I wish to do;No sons of Mars e’er fought more brave, or with more courage true.To Captain Bradford I belonged, in his artillery;He fell that day among the slain, and a valiant man was he.

’Twas November the fourth, in the year of ninety-one,We had a sore engagement, near to Fort Jefferson;Sainclaire was our commander, which may remembered be,For there we left nine hundred men, in t’West’n Ter’tory.At Bunker’s Hill and Quebeck, where many a hero fell,Likewise at Long Island—it is the truth I tell,—But such a dreadful carnage, may I never see again,As happened at St. Mary’s, upon the river plain.Our army was attacked, just as the day did dawn,And soon was overpowered and driven from the lawn,They killed Major Ouldham, Levin, and Briggs likewise,And horrid yells of sav’ges, resounded through the skies.Major Butler, he was wounded by the very second fire;His manly bosom swelled with rage, when forced to retire;And as he lay in anguish, and scarcely could he see,Exclaimed, “Ye hounds of hell! Oh! revenged will I be.”We had not been long broken, when General Butler found,Himself so badly wounded, was forced to quit the ground.“My God!” says he, “what shall we do? we’re wounded every man;Go charge them, valiant heroes, and beat them if you can.”He leaned his back against a tree, and there resigned his breath,And like a valiant soldier, sank in the arms of death,When blessed angels did await, his spirit to convey,And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his way.We charged again with courage firm, but soon again gave ground,The war-whoop then redoubled, as foes did us surround;They killed good Major Ferguson, which caused his men to cry,“Our only safety is in flight, or fighting here we die!”“Stand to your guns,” says valiant Ford, “let’s die upon them here,Before we let the sav’ges know, we ever harboured fear!”Our cannon-balls exhausted, and artill’ry men all slain,Obliged were our musket-men, the en’my to sustain.Yet three hours more we fought them, and then were forced to yield,Three hundred bloody warriors lay stretched upon the field.Says Colonel Gibson to his men, “My boys, be not dismayed,I am sure that true Virginians were never yet afraid;“Ten thousand deaths I’d rather die, than they should gain the field;”With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him to yield.Says Major Clarke, “My heroes, I can no longer stand;We’ll try to form in order, and retreat the best we can.”The word “retreat” being passed around, there was a dismal cry,Then helter-skelter through the woods, like wolves and sheep they fly.This well-appointed army, which but the day before,Defied and braved all danger, had like a cloud passed o’er.Alas! the dying and wounded, how dreadful was the thought,To the tomahawk and scalping knife, in misery are brought.Some had an arm and some a thigh broke on the field that day,Who writhed in torments at the stake, to close the dire affray.To mention our brave officers is what I wish to do;No sons of Mars e’er fought more brave, or with more courage true.To Captain Bradford I belonged, in his artillery;He fell that day among the slain, and a valiant man was he.

’Twas November the fourth, in the year of ninety-one,

We had a sore engagement, near to Fort Jefferson;

Sainclaire was our commander, which may remembered be,

For there we left nine hundred men, in t’West’n Ter’tory.

At Bunker’s Hill and Quebeck, where many a hero fell,Likewise at Long Island—it is the truth I tell,—But such a dreadful carnage, may I never see again,As happened at St. Mary’s, upon the river plain.

At Bunker’s Hill and Quebeck, where many a hero fell,

Likewise at Long Island—it is the truth I tell,—

But such a dreadful carnage, may I never see again,

As happened at St. Mary’s, upon the river plain.

Our army was attacked, just as the day did dawn,And soon was overpowered and driven from the lawn,They killed Major Ouldham, Levin, and Briggs likewise,And horrid yells of sav’ges, resounded through the skies.

Our army was attacked, just as the day did dawn,

And soon was overpowered and driven from the lawn,

They killed Major Ouldham, Levin, and Briggs likewise,

And horrid yells of sav’ges, resounded through the skies.

Major Butler, he was wounded by the very second fire;His manly bosom swelled with rage, when forced to retire;And as he lay in anguish, and scarcely could he see,Exclaimed, “Ye hounds of hell! Oh! revenged will I be.”

Major Butler, he was wounded by the very second fire;

His manly bosom swelled with rage, when forced to retire;

And as he lay in anguish, and scarcely could he see,

Exclaimed, “Ye hounds of hell! Oh! revenged will I be.”

We had not been long broken, when General Butler found,Himself so badly wounded, was forced to quit the ground.“My God!” says he, “what shall we do? we’re wounded every man;Go charge them, valiant heroes, and beat them if you can.”

We had not been long broken, when General Butler found,

Himself so badly wounded, was forced to quit the ground.

“My God!” says he, “what shall we do? we’re wounded every man;

Go charge them, valiant heroes, and beat them if you can.”

He leaned his back against a tree, and there resigned his breath,And like a valiant soldier, sank in the arms of death,When blessed angels did await, his spirit to convey,And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his way.

He leaned his back against a tree, and there resigned his breath,

And like a valiant soldier, sank in the arms of death,

When blessed angels did await, his spirit to convey,

And unto the celestial fields he quickly bent his way.

We charged again with courage firm, but soon again gave ground,The war-whoop then redoubled, as foes did us surround;They killed good Major Ferguson, which caused his men to cry,“Our only safety is in flight, or fighting here we die!”

We charged again with courage firm, but soon again gave ground,

The war-whoop then redoubled, as foes did us surround;

They killed good Major Ferguson, which caused his men to cry,

“Our only safety is in flight, or fighting here we die!”

“Stand to your guns,” says valiant Ford, “let’s die upon them here,Before we let the sav’ges know, we ever harboured fear!”Our cannon-balls exhausted, and artill’ry men all slain,Obliged were our musket-men, the en’my to sustain.

“Stand to your guns,” says valiant Ford, “let’s die upon them here,

Before we let the sav’ges know, we ever harboured fear!”

Our cannon-balls exhausted, and artill’ry men all slain,

Obliged were our musket-men, the en’my to sustain.

Yet three hours more we fought them, and then were forced to yield,Three hundred bloody warriors lay stretched upon the field.Says Colonel Gibson to his men, “My boys, be not dismayed,I am sure that true Virginians were never yet afraid;

Yet three hours more we fought them, and then were forced to yield,

Three hundred bloody warriors lay stretched upon the field.

Says Colonel Gibson to his men, “My boys, be not dismayed,

I am sure that true Virginians were never yet afraid;

“Ten thousand deaths I’d rather die, than they should gain the field;”With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him to yield.Says Major Clarke, “My heroes, I can no longer stand;We’ll try to form in order, and retreat the best we can.”

“Ten thousand deaths I’d rather die, than they should gain the field;”

With that he got a fatal shot, which caused him to yield.

Says Major Clarke, “My heroes, I can no longer stand;

We’ll try to form in order, and retreat the best we can.”

The word “retreat” being passed around, there was a dismal cry,Then helter-skelter through the woods, like wolves and sheep they fly.This well-appointed army, which but the day before,Defied and braved all danger, had like a cloud passed o’er.

The word “retreat” being passed around, there was a dismal cry,

Then helter-skelter through the woods, like wolves and sheep they fly.

This well-appointed army, which but the day before,

Defied and braved all danger, had like a cloud passed o’er.

Alas! the dying and wounded, how dreadful was the thought,To the tomahawk and scalping knife, in misery are brought.Some had an arm and some a thigh broke on the field that day,Who writhed in torments at the stake, to close the dire affray.

Alas! the dying and wounded, how dreadful was the thought,

To the tomahawk and scalping knife, in misery are brought.

Some had an arm and some a thigh broke on the field that day,

Who writhed in torments at the stake, to close the dire affray.

To mention our brave officers is what I wish to do;No sons of Mars e’er fought more brave, or with more courage true.To Captain Bradford I belonged, in his artillery;He fell that day among the slain, and a valiant man was he.

To mention our brave officers is what I wish to do;

No sons of Mars e’er fought more brave, or with more courage true.

To Captain Bradford I belonged, in his artillery;

He fell that day among the slain, and a valiant man was he.

67. Willson.

68. Hildreth.

69. Hildreth.

70. Tucker’s “Life of Jefferson.”

71. Life of Jefferson.

72. Life of Jefferson.

73. Life of Jefferson.

74. Ibid.

75. Willson.

76. Willson.

77. Knight’s Pictorial History.

78. Willson.

79. “Letters on Freemasonry,” by J. Q. Adams.

80. Willson.

81. Miss Bremer’s “Homes of the New World.”

82. Mrs. Willard.

83. R. H. Mason.

84. Goodrich’s United States.

85. Goodrich’s United States.

86. Miss Bremer’s “Homes of the New World.”

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THE RISE OFTHE DUTCH REPUBLIC.A history.ByJOHN LOTHROP MOTLEY.

THE RISE OF

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A serious chasm in English historical literature has been (by this book) very remarkably filled. * * * A history as complete as industry and genius can make it now lies before us, of the first twenty years of the revolt of the United Provinces. * * * All the essentials of a great writer Mr. Motley eminently possesses. His mind is broad, his industry unwearied. In power of dramatic description no modern historian, except, perhaps, Mr. Carlyle, surpasses him, and in analysis of character he is elaborate and distinct.—Westminster Review.

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CURTIS’S HISTORYOF THECONSTITUTION.

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Should the second volume sustain the character of the first, we hazard nothing in claiming for the entire publication the character of a standard work. It will furnish the only sure guide to the interpretation of the Constitution, by unfolding historically the wants it was intended to supply, and the evils which it was intended to remedy.—Boston Daily Advertiser.

This volume is an important contribution to our constitutional and historical literature. * * * Every true friend of the Constitution will gladly welcome it. The author has presented a narrative clear and interesting. It evinces careful research, skillful handling of material, lucid statement, and a desire to write in a tone and manner worthy of the great theme.—Boston Post.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS,Franklin Square, New York.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS,

Franklin Square, New York.

⁂Harper & Brotherswill send the above Work by Mail, postage paid (for any distance in the United States under 3000 miles), on receipt of the Money.

Works by Thomas Carlyle.

History of Friedrich the Second,

called Frederic the Great. 4 vols. 12mo, Muslin, $1 25 each. Vols. I. and II., with Portraits and Maps, just ready.

The French Revolution.

A History. Newly Revised by the Author, with Index, &c. 2 vols. 12mo, Muslin, $2 00; Half Calf, $3 70.

Oliver Cromwell’s Letters and Speeches.

Including the Supplement to the First Edition. With Elucidations and Connecting Narrative. 2 vols. 12mo, Muslin, $2 00; Half Calf, $3 70.

Past and Present.

Chartism and Sartor Resartus. A New Edition. Complete in 1 vol. 12mo, Muslin, $1 00; Half Calf, $1 85.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS,Franklin Square, New York.

Published by HARPER & BROTHERS,

Franklin Square, New York.

☞Harper & Brotherswill send either of the above Works by Mail, postage paid (for any distance in the United States under 3000 miles), on receipt of the Money.

Harper & Brotherswill send either of the following Works by Mail, postage paid (for any distance in the United States under 3000 miles), on receipt of the Money.

DICKENS AND BONNER’SCHILD’S HISTORIES.BOOKS FOR THE FIRESIDE, THE SCHOOL-ROOM, AND THE FAMILY AND SCHOOL LIBRARY. COMPRISING

DICKENS AND BONNER’S

CHILD’S HISTORIES.

BOOKS FOR THE FIRESIDE, THE SCHOOL-ROOM, AND THE FAMILY AND SCHOOL LIBRARY. COMPRISING

A Child’s History of England.ByCharles Dickens. 2 vols. 16mo, Muslin, 60 cents.

A Child’s History of the United States.ByJohn Bonner. Illustrated. 2 vols. 16mo, Muslin, $1 00.

A Child’s History of Rome.ByJohn Bonner. Illustrated. 2 vols. 16mo, Muslin, $1 00.

A Child’s History of Greece.ByJohn Bonner. Illustrated. 2 vols. 16mo, Muslin, $1 00.

These works present the leading facts of history in the form of stories, which children will read for the pleasure they afford. The histories of Rome and Greece are written from an American point of view.

Capital little volumes. Though written in a simple and artless style to captivate juvenile students of history, they are not devoid of a philosophical spirit to prompt reflection.—Christian Register.

For writings intended for juvenile readers Mr. Bonner’s style is a model—sweet, flowing, animated, with a liberal use of colloquial expressions.—N. Y. Tribune.

Good books for the school and family library.—N. Y. Observer.

History presented in such a shape as to possess all the charms of a romance.—New Orleans Crescent.

Bonner’s Child’s History of Rome is the best in the market for young readers.—Church Journal.

A remarkably successful effort at adapting a historical narrative to the tastes of youthful readers.—Presbyterian.

Mr. Bonner writes with freedom and force, avoiding verbosity and pedantry, and a child of five or a man of seventy can alike understand his meaning.—N. Y. Daily Times.

Written with simplicity, and in a manner to engage the attention of youthful readers.—N. Y. Evening Post.

We welcome these volumes with most sincere pleasure. They have a permanent value, and are fitting companions for that beautiful Child’s History of England, by Dickens.—St. Louis Republican.

The press can not teem with too many just such books.—Savannah Georgian.

Mr. Bonner excels as a historian for the young. His simple, vigorous style, absence of profound reflections, and power of condensing, by grasping the prominent points and leaving out minor incidents, admirably fit him for a task like the present.—Boston Journal.

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