attention of the Americans, the town of Charlestown, consisting of 500 wooden buildings, was now set on fire by the British; the roar of the flames, the crashing of falling timber, the awful appearance of desolation presented, the dreadful shrieks of the dying and wounded in the last attack, added to the knowledge of the formi dable force advancing against them, combined to form a scene apparently too much for men bred in the quiet retirement of domestic life to sustain. But the stillness of

death reigned within the American works, and nought could be seen but the deadly presented weapon, ready to hurl fresh destruction on the assailants. The fire of the Americans was again reserved till the British came still nearer than before, when the same unerring aim was taken, and the British shrunk, terrified, from before its fatal effects, flying, completely routed, a second time to the banks of the river, and leaving, as before, the field strewed with their wounded and their dead.

Again the ships and batteries renewed their fire, and kept a continual shower of balls on the works. Notwithstanding every exertion, the British officers found it impossible to rally the men for a third attack; one third of their comrades had fallen; and finally it was not till a re-enforcement of more than 1000 fresh troops, with a strong park of artillery, had joined them from Boston, that they could be induced to form anew.

In the mean time every effort was made on the part of the Americans, to resist a third attack; Gen. Putnam rode, notwithstanding the heavy fire of the ships and batteries, several times across the neck, to induce the militia to advance; but it was only a few of the resolute and brave who would encounter the storm. The British receiving re-enforcements from their formidable main body-the town of Charlestown presenting one wide scene of destruction-the probability the Americans must shortly retreat-the shower of balls pouring over the neck-presented obstacles too appalling for raw troops to sustain, and embodied too much danger to allow them to encounter. Yet, notwithstanding all this, the Americans on the heights were elated with their suc

cess, and waited with coolness and determination the now formidable advance of the enemy.

Once more the British, aided by their re-enforcements, advanced to the attack, but with great skill and caution; their artillery was planted on the eastern declivity of the hill, between the rail fence and the breast-work, where it was directed along the line of the Americans, stationed at the latter place, and against the gateway on the northeastern corner of the redoubt; at the same time they attacked the redoubt on the south-eastern and south-western sides, and entered it with fixed bayonets. The slaughter on their advancing was great; but the Americans, not having bayonets to meet them on equal terms, and their powder being exhausted, now slowly retreated, opposing and extricating themselves from the British with the butts of their pieces.

The column that advanced against the rail fence was received in the most dauntless manner. The Americans fought with spirit and heroism that could not be surpassed, and had their ammunition held out, would have secured to themselves a third time the palm of victory; as it was, they effectually prevented the enemy from accomplishing his purpose, which was to turn their flank, and cut the whole of the Americans off; but having become perfectly exhausted, this body of the Americans. also slowly retired, retreating in much better order than could possibly have been expected from undisciplined troops, and those in the redoubt having extricated themselves from the host of bayonets by which they had been surrounded.

The British followed the Americans to Bunker Hill, but some fresh militia at this moment coming up to the aid of the latter, covered their retreat. The Americans

crossed Charlestown Neck about 7 o'clock, having in the last twenty hours performed deeds which seemed almost impossible. Some of them proceeded to Cambridge, and others posted themselves quietly on Winter and Prospect Hills.

From the most accurate statements that can be found, it appears the British must have had nearly 5,000 sol

diers in the battle; between 3 and 4,000 having first landed, and the re-enforcement amounting to over 1,000. The Americans, throughout the whole day, did not have 2,000 men on the field.

The slaughter on the side of the British was immense, having had nearly 1,500 killed and wounded, 1,200 of whom were either killed or mortally wounded; the Americans about 400.

Had the commanders at Charlestown Heights become terrified on being cut off from the main body and supplies, and surrendered their army, or ever. retreated before they did, from the terrific force that opposed them, where would now have been that ornament and example to the world, the Independence of the United States? When it was found that no re-enforcements were to be allowed them, the most sanguine man on that field could not have even indulged a hope of success, but all determined to deserve it; and although they did not obtain a victory, their example was the cause of a great many. The first attempt on the commencement of a war, is held up, by one party or the other, as an example to those that succeed it, and a victory or defeat, though not, perhaps, of any great magnitude in itself, is most powerful and important in its effects. Had such conduct as was here exhibited, been in any degree imitated by the immediate commander in the first military onset in the last war, how truly different a result would have been effected, from the fatal one that terminated that unfortunate expedition.

From the immense superiority of the British, at this stage of the war, having a large army of highly disciplined and well equipped troops, and the Americans possessing but few other munitions or weapons of war, and but little more discipline, than what each man possessed when he threw aside his plough and took the gun that he had kept for pastime or for profit, but now to be employed for a different purpose, from off the hooks that held it,— perhaps it would have been in their power, by pursuing the Americans to Cambridge, and destroying the few stores that had been collected there, to inflict a blow

which could never have been recovered from: but they were completely terrified. The awful lesson they had just received, filled them with horror; and the blood of 1,500 of their companions, who fell on that day, presented to them a warning which they could never forget. From the battle of Bunker Hill, sprung the protection and the vigour that nurtured the tree of liberty, and to it, in all probability, may be ascribed our independence and glory.

The name of the first martyr that gave his life for the good of his country on that day, in the importance o the moment was lost; else a monument, in connexion with the gallant Warren, should be raised to his memory. The manner of his death was thus related by Col. Prescott. "The first man who fell in the battle of Bunker Hill was killed by a cannon ball which struck his head. He was so near me that my clothes were besmeared with his blood and brains, which I wiped off, in some degree, with a handful of fresh earth. The sight was so shock ing to many of the men, that they left their posts and ran to view him. I ordered them back, but in vain. I then ordered him to be buried instantly. A subaltern officer expressed surprise that I should allow him to be buried without having prayers said; I replied, this is the first man that has been killed, and the only one that will be buried to day. I put him out of sight that the men may be kept in their places. God only knows who, or how many of us, will fall before it is over. To your post, my good fellow, and let each man do his duty."

The name of the patriot who thus fell is supposed to have been POLLARD, a young man belonging to Billerica. He was struck by a cannon ball, thrown from the line-of-battle ship Somerset.

58. Arnold's March through the Wilderness.

About the same time that Canada was invaded by the usual route from New York, a considerable detachment

of the American army was brought thither by a new and unexpected passage. Arnold, who conducted this bold undertaking, acquired thereby the name of the American Hannibal. He was sent, by General Washington, with a thousand men, from Cambridge, with orders to penetrate into that province, by ascending the Kennebec, and then, after crossing the mountains which divide Canada from Maine, by descending the Chaudiere to the St. Lawrence. Great were the difficulties, and severe the privations, they had to encounter, in marching three hundred miles, by an unexplored way, through an uninhabited country. In ascending the Kennebec, they were constantly obliged to struggle against an impetuous current; and were often compelled, by cataracts, to land, and haul their batteaux up rapid streams, and over falls of rivers. They had to contend with swamps, woods, and craggy mountains. At some places, they had to cut their way, for miles together, through forests so embarrassed, that their progress was only four or five miles a day. One third of their number were, from sickness and want of food, obliged to return. Provisions grew at length so scarce, that some of the men ate their dogs, cartouch boxes, leather small clothes, and shoes. Still they proceeded with unabated fortitude. They gloried in the hope of completing a march which would rival the greatest exploits of antiquity; and on the third of November, after thirty-one days spent in traversing a hideous desert, they reached the inhabited parts of Canada, where the people were struck with amazement and admiration when they saw this armed force emerging from the wilderness."

59. Death of General Montgomery.

Richard Montgomery, a major general in the ariny of the United States, was born in the north of Ireland, in the year 1737. He possessed an excellent genius.

Grimshaw's Hist. U. S.