After Putting A Variety Of Questions, As To The "Old Country" As He Termed Great Britain, On Which I Readily

Satisfied his curiosity, he entered into a detail of some of the stirring events relating to the period of his

Father's career in arms against the British; some of these were of a thrilling character, and strongly depicted the miseries of war, presenting a lamentable picture of the debasing influence of sanguinary struggles on the human mind. The barbarous mode of harassing the British troops, by picking off stragglers, which the lower orders of Americans pursued, in most instances for the sake of the wretched clothing and accoutrements of the victims, the former being dyed of a dark colour, and sold for a dollar per set (as he called the military suit), to the American citizen-soldiers, fairly made my blood creep; one instance in particular filled me with horror, for it was a cold-blooded murder of the deepest dye I must, however, do the narrator the justice to say that he viewed the atrocity in the same light as I did.

The occurrence I am about to relate, took place somewhere on the banks of the Hudson, below West Point, where a force of British troops were encamped or pursuing their operations under the protection of some vessels of war lying in the stream, he mentioned the exact spot where it occurred, but I have forgotten it. It appeared that this force was harassed and beset by parties of citizens, who, by pursuing a guerilla system of warfare, surprising small parties, and firing entirely in ambush, made great havoc amongst the rank and file of the invaders, almost every straggler falling a victim. One evening, during this state of things, two of the citizens, whilst prowling in a coppice, within a few miles of the camp, on the look-out, came suddenly upon an infantry soldier, who was off his guard at the moment, and whose firelock was resting against a tree; the foremost of the Americans darted forward and seized the weapon, while the second captured the wretched soldier. Under ordinary circumstances, and in more honourable hands, the man would have been conveyed as a prisoner of war to the American camp, but plunder being their object, this would not answer the purpose of the miscreants, the most resolute of whom ordered the captive (who was a lad of seventeen or eighteen), to take off his jacket. Knowing this was a preliminary step to his being shot, he fell on his knees and implored mercy. His captors were, however, inexorable, and he began to cry bitterly, and besought them to spare his life; these manifestations had, however, no effect on his deadly foes, who now threatened to fell him with the butt end of a fusee if he did not comply: this had the effect, and the poor captive reluctantly pulled off the jacket and threw it on the ground; this was immediately picked up by one of the party, to avoid its being stained with the life-blood of the victim.

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