TIRED with oppression in our native land, and in hopes of a better situation in America, two hundred of us, hale, hearty, and industrious, besides women and children, embarked at Londonderry, on board the ******, bound for Philadelphia.

[Page 6] From the outset untoward acci­dents awaited us. We had not been ten days at sea, when our vessel sprung a leak, which, for a long time, baffled all our endeavours. At length, being discovered, it was stopped, and we esteemed ourselves secure.—Thougtless mortals! the disappoint­ment of to-day never produces the effect of preparing us for the cala­mity of to-morrow!

A gust arose! the elements warred together, as if it were the "last groan of expiring nature." The floodgates of heaven seemed loosed! dreadful peals of thunder rattled on the ear. The stoutest hearts were appalled. The forked lightning [Page 7] struck our mast, and set the vessel on fire. Beset by two raging elements—the roaring billows, which lashed her sides, and seemed ready to swallow her and us, though they had appeared so terrific before—now lost their hor­rors, and were regarded—melancholy alternative!—as a less tremendous enemy than their new auxiliary.

With vast difficulty, the flame was extinguished—but not until it had rendered our vessel scarcely manage­able. To complete the measure of our woes, our provisions fell short. A biscuit and a pint of water, fetid and almost as dense as glue, was the daily portion of each! Every morning saw two or three miserable wretches [Page 8] heaved overboard, into a watry grave, in the presence of their dejected friends and relatives, each hourly ex­pecting the hand of death to close his eyes, and free him from his abyss of misery.

"Father! father!" cries a once beautiful, but now emaciated child, whose visage bore irresistible evidence of near-approaching mortality, ‘get me a drink! I faint—I die!—for God's sake let me have a drop of water to quench my thirst!’

‘Captain, I beg a little water to save my child from death,’— ‘You have had your share for to-day, and shall have no more.’

[Page 9] ‘Brute! stranger to the tender feel­ings of nature—had you a child—but you are not worthy of having one—you would pity my present situation, and relieve me.’

The mother of the child, who had swooned away, just came to herself. She heard his plaintive cries. She joined her voice to his, and besought the father to procure the water.

Melancholy, anguish, and torture, seized the tender husband's—the ten­der father's soul. The big tear rolled down his cheek. ‘Gracious and all­powerful God! why visit your children with such calamities? Pre­sumptuous man!’ added he, reco­vering himself, ‘are you to dare scru­tinize [Page 10] the ways of unerring Providence? Not my will, O Lord, but thine be done!’

He returned to the scene he had just quitted. His beloved child lay breathing his last. His wife had swooned away again. The sight was too afflictive. His agonies over­powered him. He went to the captain, whom he quarrelled with, struck. The blows were returned. He seized a sword; and the captain, rushing for­ward, received it in his breast. He closed his eyes for ever.

Disorder and confusion ensued in the vessel. The sailors plundered every thing they could lay their hands upon: and such was their irregularity [Page 11] and carelessness, that they ran the ves­sel aground at Synapuxent, in the state of Maryland.

The sea ran mountains high. A skiff, with about twenty persons on board, was overset by an enormous wave. The shrieks and piteous cries of men, women, and children, soon died away. They were swallowed up in one common grave. Most of the remainder were drowned in endea­vouring to swim to land.

About thirty miserable wretches of us, gained the shore, some fortunate enough to save their property. We expected there to meet with relief and comfort. Fatal delusion! Had we been thrown ashore among the New [Page 12] Zealanders, among the swarthy sons of Guinea, or among the rapacious Alge­rines, our fate could not have been more severe. We were cruelly plun­dered. Not a valuable article was left us—and we were reduced to beggary in a strange land, without a hope of redress.

Man! man! wretched, infatuated man! Can a sordid trifle tempt you thus to violate every rule of right and justice—to steel your heart against the feelings of humanity—and to be more cruel and noxious than the raging ele­ments! Short is your day—and then all the vanities of this world will pass away—the veil that prevents your regarding objects in their true light, [Page 13] will be removed—keen remorse will prey upon your tortured soul, and be an earnest of your future never-dying woe!

Rulers of America! Guard against this barbarity! make severe laws to punish the miscreants who may be guilty of it—and let a civic crown be awarded the man who ventures his own life to save that of a fellow-crea­ture in the direst distress!

[From the Columbian Magazine, for September, 1786]

—"Constable shall seize, and take into his possession, such and so much of the goods, chattles and effects of said delinquent, as shall be necessary."—"And if sufficient effects cannot be found, whereon to make distress, such constable shall take the body of any such delinquent, and deliver him of her to the sheriff, or keeper of the country jail, who shall detain such delinquent in close custody, without bail or mainprize, until payment made."

—"Is this, good God!" ex­claimed I, "is this freedom? Is this what we have been so long contend­ing for? Is this the fruit of a seven [Page 56] years war? Farewell to heaven-born Liberty!"—

A cynical old man, who sat in a corner, his eyes half shut, and envelo­ped in the smoke which he emitted from his mouth, in large volumes, knocking the dust out of his pipe, and staring me stedfastly in the face, asked me if I had read Sidney, Locke, Price, or any of the other celebrated writers on the subject of liberty, and if I understood what was the real im­port of the word? My mind being somewhat untuned, and not choosing to enter the lists of controversy with a genius who had so forbidding an appearance as that which presented itself to my view, I replied in the ne­gative. [Page 57] He then entered into a most elaborate disquisition on the nature of liberty—said that self-taxation was its very sum and essence—and was pro­ceeding in a most copious and fluent harangue, when, wishing to indulge a little reflection, I called the waiter, desired him to pay himself out of a dol­lar, for the coffee I had just drank—wished the haranguer a good day—and returned home—

Here, when I became a little com­posed, I endeavoured to picture to my imagination the numbers who must inevitably taste of the bitter cup of misery "by virtue of this act." Sci­zures, vendues, imprisonments, croud­ed on my mind without end—While [Page 58] I was in this sympathetic frame of thought, the case of an unfortunate soldier, my bosom friend, my Pylades, suggested itself to my perturbed imagi­nation.

My Pylades, as I used to call him, in return for the name of Orestes, with which he honoured me, had borne the fatigues and hardships, the hunger and thirst, of a seven years war—had been in almost all the principal engagements—had been several times taken prisoner, and put on board guard-ships, where he experienced what would have destroyed perhaps any other man—In all these vari­ous scenes, these vicisstudes of for­tune, [Page 59] he had conducted himself with a heroism, a magnanimity, which would put to shame the vounted fables of antiquity—After having undergone all this, he had, a few days previous to the termination of the war, fallen in defence of that country, whose rights and liberties he prized more than ex­istence itself.—A tender spouse and six lisping children, the eldest not eight years old, would, in a short space, have been blest with his presence, had not a siend, in shape of an Indian, cut short his precious life—

Isabella, ill fated Isabella, the part­ner of all his joys, and solace of all his cares, was panting in hourly expecta­tion of his long wished for return:— [Page 60] her tender heart throbbed with every breath of wind, and the smallest mo­tion, which flattered her with the de­lusive hope of embracing once more the lord of her soul;—never! never! to be realized!—

Notwithstanding every possible pre­caution was taken to prepare her for the direful news, in order to avoid the consequences to be feared from an ab­rupt disclosure of her woe, she sunk lifeless on her couch, when the luck­less tidings reached her ear, doomed never to hear a sound of joy!—One fit followed close on the heels of ano­ther for two days successively—and at length, the extreme violence of her grief having somewhat subsided, she fell [Page 61] into that state of torpor and apathy, which too often succeeds the paroxysms of madness and despair.

Her only not-adored Pylades had expended the little patrimony he was in possession of, in support of the cause of freedom and America—She was therefore left, in every sense of the word, desolate; and the small provision she was entitled to, as a recompense for his services, was totally inadequate to the support of herself and tender offspring!—

And perhaps, says I, in some short time hence, the amiable, the engaging Isabella, with accomplishments to adorn a crown, and to soften and har­monize barbarity itself in human shape, [Page 62] perhaps she shall feel the relentless hand of some harpy catchpole, "by virtue of the funding bill"—The melan­choly train of reflection into which this threw me, made me sink into a reverie, in which I conceived Isabella was assessed at a sum, trivial indeed to persons in affluence, but enormous to her—I beheld her borne down by the weight of affliction, lying on the bed of sickness, without a being to adminis­ter comfort to her, except her dear children, the only objects of her care, on whom she cast many a wishful eye, recommending them to the care of her omnipotent Creator—

Thus afflicted, thus sorlorn, thus woe begone, a man of uncouth form, in the guise of a COLLECTOR, made [Page 63] his appearance—"Madam," he says, " I come for ten dollars, the sum at which you have been assessed by vir­tue of a late act of assembly"—With faultering accents, and pallid counte­nance, she articulated an assurance, that "if her life was at stake for a tenth of that sum, she must incur the forseit"—Well, madam," said he, "with a perfect sang froid, dart­ing a most ferocious look at the heart­broken mourner, you must abide the consequences."

After a tedious interval of forty days, the collector made his return to a justice of peace, who directly, with­out enquiry, issued his warrant to a constable to distress and distrain, and [Page 64] in default, to take the body of the DELINQUENT into custody—

Methought I beheld this stone­hearted constable possess himself of every article the house contained—while Isabella lay dissolved in a trance into which his unseasonable appear­ance, and rough, savage behaviour had cast her—the two eldest of her young ones, wailing and lamenting around her, and the others gazing, with childish astonishment, at a scene, the horrors of which they were to­tally incapable of conceiving.

A few days after seizure, a public vendue converted her little furniture to money, but so destitute had she been, that there was a deficiency in [Page 65] the sum at which she had been asses­sed.—

My heart sunk within me, on con­templating the dreadful catastrophe, which closed the melancholy trage­dy:—

The constable, with a posse, came and seized the unfortunate delinquent! He dragged her, half dead with afflic­tion, distress, and despair, through the streets, to a loathsome jail. Here she was reduced to have recourse to a bed of straw! She, who had been accustomed to the endearments, the care, the attention, of a fond, an ador­ing husband, whose chief study had been to anticipate her every wish, was now, sad reverse! without a being to [Page 66] hand her a draught of water, to al­lay the burning heart of a fever, which had seized and was preying on her—And in a few days, DEATH came to her relief, and called away her ange­lic soul, to those regions of never-end­ing happiness, which God has prepar­ed for those he loves. Her breath was closed in prayers for her infants, and for the forgiveness of her persecutors!

Gracious Power! (ejaculated I) that watchest over the transactions of this sublunary world, how many such scenes will a short time realize, per­haps in every corner of the state!—Is the "asylum" which, we fondly slattered ourselves, had been prepared "for the distressed and persecuted of [Page 67] "all nations," destroyed?—Is the pleasing illusion vanished? Have we been but dreaming of felicity, and do we now awake to mere "vanity and "vexation of spirit?"—Have we all this while been but making a transi­tion, from one tyranny to another—And is there to be no freedom, no happiness, this side the grave!

THIS gallant officer, whose death is so generally and so justly regretted, was born in the town of Warwick, Kent county, Rhode-Island, in or about the year 1741, and was the second son of a respectable citizen of the same name, (descended from one of the first settlers of the colony) who was extensively concerned in lucrative iron-works, the property of which, at his death, (prior to the war) he left to his children.

[Page 69] The General was endowed with an uncommon degree of judgment and penetration, which, with a benevolent manner and assable behaviour, acquired him a number of valuable friends, by whose interest and influence, he was, at an early period of life, chosen a member of the assembly of the then colony of Rhode-Island. This trust, in which he gave the highest satisfac­tion to his constituents, he continued to possess, until, and at, the period, when the folly and madness of Eng­land severed a world from her em­pire.

After the skirmishes at Lexington and Concord, when a spirit of resist­ance spread, like wild-fire, over the [Page 70] continent, Rhode-island was not defi­cient in her contributions for the gene­ral defence. She raised three regiments of militia, the command whereof was given to Mr. Greene, who was nomi­nated brigadier-general. The liberty, safety, and prosperity of his country being exposed to imminent danger, the pacific principles of quakerism, in which he had been educated, proved insufficient to repress the ardent spirit of liberty with which his bosom glowed.

He led the troops under his com­mand to Cambridge, and was present at the evacuation of Boston by a force which, in England had been vaunt­ingly stated as treble the number that [Page 71] would be requisite to dragoon America into unconditional submission.

General Greene's merit and abili­ties, as well in the council as in the field, were not long unnoticed by gene­ral Washington, who reposed in him the utmost confidence, and paid a par­ticular deference to his advice and opinion, on all occasions of doubt and difficulty. This excited the jealousy of several officers, of older date and higher rank, who were not wanting in endeavours to supplant him: but in vain—the commander in chief knew and prized his worth as it deserved.

He was appointed major-general by congress, the 26th of August, 1776. Towards the close of that year, he [Page 72] was at the Trenton suprize; and, at the beginning of the next, was at the bat­tle of Princeton, two enterprizes not more happily planned than judiciously and bravely executed, in both of which he displayed his talents, serv­ing his noviciate under the American Fabius.

At the battle of Brandywine, gene­ral Greene distinguished himself by supporting the right wing of the Ame­rican army, when it gave way, and judiciously covering the whole, when routed and retreating in confusion; and their safety from utter ruin was gen­nerally ascribed to his skill and exer­tions, which were well seconded by the troops under his command.

[Page 73] At the battle of Germantown, he commanded the left wing of the Ame­rican army—and his utmost endea­vours were exerted to retreive the fortune of that day, in which his con­duct met with the approbation of the commander in chief.

In March, 1778, he was appoint­ed quarter-master general, which office he accepted under a stipulation that his rank in the army should not be af­fected by it, and that he should retain his right to command in time of action, according to his rank and seniority.

In this station, he fully answered the expectations formed of his abilities; and enabled the American army to [Page 74] move with additional celerity and vigour.

At the battle of Monmouth, the commander in chief, disgusted with the behaviour of general Lee, deposed him in the field of battle, and appoint­ed general Greene to command the right wing, where he greatly contribu­ted to retrieve the errors of his prede­cessor, and to the subsequent event of the day.

About the middle of the year 1778, an attack being planned by the Ame­ricans, in conjunction with the French fleet, on the British garrison at New­port, Rhode-island, general Sullivan was appointed to the command, under whom general Greene served. This [Page 75] attempt was unsuccessful. The French fleet having failed out of harbour, to engage lord Howe's fleet, they were dispersed by a storm, and the Ameri­cans were obliged to raise the siege of Newport; in doing which general Greene displayed a great degree of skill in drawing off the army in safety.

After the hopes of the British gene­rals to execute some decisive stroke to the northward, were frustrated, they turned their attention to the southern states, as less capable of de­fence, and more likely to reward the invaders with ample plunder. A grand expedition was, in consequence, plan­ned at New-York, where the army embarked on the 26th of December, [Page 76] 1779, and landed on the 11th of February, 1780, within about thirty miles of Charleston, which, after a brave defence, was surrendered to Sir Henry Clinton, on the 12th of May.

A series of ill success followed this unfortunate event. The American arms in South Carolina were in gene­ral unsuccesful, and the inhabitants were obliged to submit to the invaders, whose impolitic severity was extremely ill calculated to answer any of the ob­jects for which the war had been com­menced.

Affairs were thus cicurmstanced, when general Washington appointed general Greene to the command of [Page 77] the American forces in the southern district. He arrived at Charlotte, on the second day of December, 1780, accompained by gen. Morgan, a brave officer, who had distinguished himself to the northward, in the expedition against Burgoyne. He found the forces he was to command, reduced to a very small number, by defeat and by desertion. The returns were nine hundred and seventy continentals, and one thousand and thirteen militia. Mi­litary stores, provisions, forage, and all things necessary, were, if possible, in a more reduced state than his army. His men were without pay, and al­most without clothing; and supplies of the latter were not to be had but from [Page 78] a distance of two hundred miles. In this perilous and embarrassed situation, he had to oppose a respectable and vic­torious army. Fortunately for him, the conduct of some of the friends of royalty obliged numbers, otherwise disposed to remain neuter, to take up arms in their own defence. This and the prudent measures the general took for removing the innumerable difficul­ties and disadvantages he was surround­ed with, and for conciliating the affec­tions of the inhabitants, soon brought together a considerable force, far infe­erior, however, to that of the British, who esteemed the country perfectly subjugated.

[Page 79] After he had recruited his forces, with all the friends to the revolu­tion that he could assemble, he sent a considerable detachment, under gene­ral Morgan, to the western extremi­ties of the state, to protect the well disposed inhabitants from the ravages of the tories. This force, which was the first that had for a considerable time appeared there, on the side of the Americans, inspired the friends of liberty with new courage, so that numbers of them crowded to the standard of general Morgan. He at length became so formidable, that lord Cornwallis thought proper to send colonel Tarleton to dislodge him from the station he had taken. [Page 80] This officer was at the head of a thou­sand regular troops, and had two field pieces. He came up, on the 17th of January, 1781, at a place called Cow­pens, with general Morgan, whose force was much inferior, and was composed of two-thirds militia, and one-third continentals. An engage­ment was the immediate consequence.

The brevity of this sketch will not permit me to go into a detail of the dispositions made on either side. Let it suffice to say, that the brave Mor­gan gained a complete victory over an officer, the rapidity and success of whose attacks, until that time, might have entitled him to make use of the declaration of Caesar, "veni, vidi, [Page 81] vici." Upwards of five hundred of the British laid down their arms, and were made prisoners—a very considerable number was killed. Eight hundred stands of arms, two field-pieces, and thirty-five baggage-waggons fell into the hands of the victors, who had only twelve killed, and sixty wounded.

This brilliant success quite discon­certed the plan of operations formed by lord Cornwallis. Having enter­tained no idea of any enemy to oppose in South Carolina, the conquest of which he had deemed complete, he had made every preparation for carry­ing his arms to the northward, to ga­ther the laurels, which he imagined awaited for him. He now found him­self [Page 82] obliged to postpone this design. He marched with rapidity after general Morgan, in hopes not only to recover the prisoners, but to revenge Tarle­ton;s losses. The Americans, by a ra­pidity of movements, and the inter­ference of providence, ^* eluded his [Page 83] efforts, and general Greene effected a junction of the two divisions of his little army, on the 7th of February. Still was he so far inferior to lord Cornwallis, that he was obliged to retreat northward, and, notwithstand­ing the vigilance and activity of his enemy, he brought his men in safety into Virginia.

In this state he received some rein­forcements, and had the promise of more—on which he returned again into North Carolina, where, on their arrival, he hoped to be able to act on the offensive. He encamped in the vicinity of lord Cornwallis's army▪—By a variety of the best concerted ma­noeuvres, and by the secrecy and [Page 84] promptitude of his motions, he so ju­diciously supported the arrangement of his troops, that during three weeks, while the enemy remained near him, he prevented them from taking any advantage of their superiority, and even cut off all opportunity of their receiving succours from the royal­ists.

About the beginning of March, he effected a junction with a continental regiment, and two considerable bodies of Virginia and Carolina militia. He then determined on attacking the Bri­tish commander without loss of time, being persuaded," as he declared in his subsequent dispatches, ‘that if he was successful, it would prove [Page 85] ruinous to the enemy—and, if other­wise, that it would be but a partial evil to him.’ On the 14th he arri­ved at Guilford court-house, the Bri­tish then lying at twelve miles dis­tance.

His army consisted of about four thousand five hundred men, of whom near two thirds were North Carolina and Virginia militia. The British were about two thousand four hundred, all regular troops, and the greater part inured to toil and service in their long expedition under lord Cornwal­lis, who, on the morning of the 15th, being apprized of general Greene's intentions, marched to meet him. The latter disposed his army in three [Page 86] lines; the militia of North Caroilna were in front—the second line was composed of those of Virginia,—and the third, which was the flower of the army, was formed of continen­tal troops, near fifteen hundred in number. They were flanked on both sides by cavalry and riflemen, and were posted on a rising ground, a mile and a half from Guilford Court House.

The engagement commenced at half an hour after one o'clock by a brisk cannonade. After which the Bri­tish advanced in three columns, and attacked the first line, composed, as has been observed, of North Carolina militia. These, who, probably, had [Page 87] never been in action before, were pa­nic struck at the approach of the ene­my, and many of them ran away with­out firing a gun, or being fired upon, and even before the British had come nearer than 140 yards to them. Part of them, however, fired, but they then followed the example of their comrades. Their officers made every possible effort to rally them—but nei­ther the advantages of their position, nor any other consideration, could in­duce them to maintain their ground. This shameful cowardice had a great effect upon the issue of the battle. The next line, however, behaved much bet­ter. They fought with great bravery; and after they were thrown into dis­order, [Page 88] rallied, returned to the charge, and kept up a heavy fire for a long time, but were at length broken, and driven on the third line, when the engagement became general, very severe, and very bloody. At length, superiority of discipline carried the day from superiority of numbers. The con­flict endured an hour and a half, and was terminated by general Greene's ordering a retreat, when he perceiv­ed, that the enemy were on the point of encircling his troops.

This was a hard fought action. Lord Cornwallis stated his losses in killed, wounded, and missing, at 532, among whom were several officers of consi­derable rank. To those who are used [Page 89] to consider the thousands killed in the plains of Germany, very frequent­ly without producing any visible con­sequence on the fate of a war, the number here mentioned must appear insignificant. But this battle was, nevertheless, decisive in its consequen­ces. Lord Cornwallis was, three days after, obliged to make a retrograde motion, and to return to Wilmington, situated two hundred miles from the place of action. He was even under the necessity of abandoning a consider­able number of those who were most dangerously wounded.

The loss of the Americans was about four hundred killed and wound­ed. However, this was not so severely [Page 90] felt, as the desertion of a considerable number of militia, who fled home­wards, and came no more near the army.

Some time after this engagement, general Greene determined to return to South-Carolina, to endeavour to expel the British from that state. His first object was to attempt the reduc­tion of Camden, where lord Raw­don was posted with about nine hun­dred men. The strength of this place, which was covered on the south and east sides by a river and a creek, and to the westward and northward, by six redoubts, rendered it impracticable to carry it by storm, with the small army general Greene had, consisting of [Page 91] about seven hundred continentals. He, therefore, encamped at about a mile from the town, in order to prevent supplies from being brought in, and to take advantage of such favourable cir­cumstances as might occur.

Lord Rawdon's situation was ex­tremely delicate. Colonel Watson, whom he had some time before de­tached for the protection of the eastern frontiers, and to whom he had, on intelligence of general Greene's inten­tions, sent orders to return to Camden, was so effectually watched by general Marian, that it was impossible for him to obey. His lordship's supplies were, moreover, very precarious:—and, [Page 92] should general Greene's reinforce­ments arrive, he might be so closely invested, as to be at length obliged to surrender. In this dilemma, the best expedient that suggested itself, was a bold attack; for which purpose he ar­med his musicians and drummers, and every person capable of carrying a mus­quet. He sallied out on the twenty-fifth of April, and attacked general Greene in his camp. The defence was obstinate, and, for some part of the engagement, the advantage appear­ed to be in favour of America.—Lieu­tenant colonel Washington, who com­manded the cavarly, had at one time not less than two hundred British pri­soners. However, by the misconduct [Page 93] of one of the American regiments, vic­tory was snatched from general Greene, who was compelled to retreat. He lost in the action about two hundred kil­led, wounded, and prisoners.—Lord Rawdon lost two hundred and fifty eight.

There was a great similarity between the consequences of the affair at Guil­ford, and those of this action. In the former, lord Cornwallis was sucecss­ful—but was obliged to retreat two hundred miles from the scene of ac­tion, and for a time abandon the grand object of penetrating to the north [...]ard. In the latter, lord Raw­don had the honour of the field, but was shortly after reduced to the neces­sity [Page 94] of abandoning his post, and leav­ing behind him a number of sick and wounded.

The evacuation of Camden, with the vigilance of general Greene, and of the several officers he employed, gave a new face to affairs in South Caro­lina, where the British ascendency declined more repidly than it had been established. The numerous forts, gar­risoned by the enemy, fell, one after the other, into the hands of the Ame­ricans. Orangeburg, Motte, Watson, Georgetown, Granby, and all the others, sort Ninety-six excepted, were surrendered; and a very considerable number of prisoners of war, with mili­tary [Page 95] stores and artillery, were found in them.

On the 22nd of May, general Greene sat down before Ninety-six, with the main part of his little army. The siege was carried on for a considerable time with great spirit: and the place was defended with equal bravery. At length, the works were so far re­duced, that a surrender must have been made in a few days, when a re­inforcement, of three regiments, from Europe, arrived at Charleston, which enabled lord Rawdon to proceed to relieve this important post. The superiority of the enemy's force, reduced general Greene to the alter­native of abandoning the siege altoge­ther, [Page 96] or, previous to their arrival, of attempting the fort by storm. The latter was more agreeable to his enter­prising spirit: and an attack was made on the morning of the 29th of June. He was repulsed, with the loss of one hundred and fifty men. He raised the siege, and retreated over the Saluda.

Dr. Ramsay, to whom the writer of this sketch is indebted, for most of the facts herein contained, speaking of the state of affairs about this period, says,—"truly distressing was the situ­ation of the American army: when in the grasp of victory, to be obliged to expose themselves to a hazardous assault, and afterwards to abandon the siege: when they were nearly masters [Page 97] of the whole country, to be compel­led to retreat to its extremity: after subduing the greatest part of the force sent against them, to be under the ne­cessity of encountering still greater re­inforcements, when their remote situ­ation precluded them from the hope of receiving a single recruit—in this gloomy situation, there were not wanting persons who advised general Greene to leave the state, and retire with his remaining forces to Virginia. To arguments and suggestions of this kind he nobly replied—'I will reco­ver the country, or die in the at­tempt.' This distinguished officer, whose genius was most vigorous in those extremities, when feeble minds [Page 98] abandon themselves to despair, adopt­ed the only resource, now left him, of avoiding an engagement, until the British force should be divided."

Some skirmishes, of no great mo­ment, took place between detached parties of both armies in July and August. September the 9th, general Greene having assembled about two thousand men, proceeded to attack the British, who, under the com­mand of col. Stewart, were posted at Eutaw Springs. The American force was drawn up in two lines: the first, composed of Carolina militia, was commanded by generals Marian and Pickens, and col. De Malmedy.—The second, which consisted of con­tinental [Page 99] troops from North Carolina, Virginia, and Maryland, was com­manded by general Sumpter, lieut. col. Campbell, and colonel Williams; lieutenant-colonel Lee, with his legion, covered the right flank; and lieuten­ant-colonel Henderson, with the state troops, covered the left. A corps de reserve was formed of the cavalry, under lieutenant-colonel Washington, and the Delaware troops under capt. Kirkwood. As the Americans came forward to the attack, they fell in with some advanced parties of the enemy, at about two or three miles a-head of the main body. These being closely pursued, were driven back—and the action soon became general. [Page 100] The militia were at length forced to give way, but were bravely supported by the second line. In the hottest part of the engagement, gen. Greene ordered the Maryland and Virginia continentals to charge with trailed arms. This decided the fate of the day. "Nothing," says dr. Ramsay, "could surpass the intrepidity of both officers and men on this occasion.—They rushed on, in good order, thro' a heavy cannonade, and a shower of musquetry, with such unshaken reso­lution, that they bore down all before them." The British were broken, closely pursued, and upwards of five hundred of them taken prisoners—They however made a fresh stand, in [Page 101] a favourable position, in impenetrable shrubs and a picquetted garden. Lieu­tenant-colonel Washington, after hav­ing made every effort to dislodge them, was wounded and taken pri­soner. Four six pounders were brought forward to play upon them, but they fell into their hands; and the endeavours to drive them from their station being found impractica­ble, the Americans retired, leaving a strong piequet on the field of battle. Their loss was about five hundred; that of the British upwards of eleven hundred.

General Greene was honoured by congress with a British standard, and a gold medal, emblematical of the [Page 101] engagement and success, "for his wife, decisive, and magnanimous con­duct, in the action at Eutaw springs, in which, with a force inferior in number to that of the enemy, he ob­tained a most signal victory."

In the evening of the succeeding day, colonel Stewart abandoned his post, and retreated towards Charles­ton, leaving behind upwards of se­venty of his wounded, and a thou­sand stands of arms. He was pursued a considerable distance—but in vain.

The battle of Eutaw produced most signal consequences in favour of Ame­rica. The British, who had for such a length of time lorded it absolutely in South Carolina, were, shortly after [Page 103] that event, obliged to confine them­selves in Charleston, whence they ne­ver ventured but to make predatory excursions, with bodies of cavalry, which in general met with a very warm and very unwelcome reception.

During the relxation that followed, a dangerous plot was formed, by some turbulent and mutinous persons in the army, to deliver up their brave gene­ral to the British. This treasonable design owed its rise to the hardships, wants, and calamities of the soldiers, who were ill paid, ill clothed, and ill fed. The conspirators did not ex­ceed twelve in number: and a provi­dential discovery defeated the project.

[Page 104] The surrender of lord Cornwallis, whose enterprising spirit had been by the British ministry expected to repair the losses, and wipe away the disgrace, which had been incurred through the inactivity and indolence of other gene­rals, having convinced them of the im­practicability of subjugating America, they discontinued offensive operations in every quarter. From the begin­ning of the year 1782, it was cur­rently reported, that Charleston was speedily to be evaucated: it was offi­cially announced the seventh of Au­gust; but did not take place until the seventeenth of December.

[Page 105] The happy period at length arrived, when, by the virtue and bravery of her sons, aided by the bounty of hea­ven, America compelled her invaders to recognise her independence. Then her armies, quitted the tented fields, and retired to cultivate the arts of peace and happiness. Among the rest, general Greene revisited his na­tive country, where he proved himself as valuable a citizen, as the Carolinas had witnessed him a gallant officer. Dissensions and jealousies had extend­ed their destructive influence among the Rhode Islanders, whose animosity had arisen to such a degree, as to threaten the most serious ill conse­quences: general Greene exerted [Page 106] himself to restore harmony and peace among them once more; and was happily successful.

In October, 1785, he sailed to Georgia, where he had a considerable estate, not far distant from Savannah. Here he passed away his time, occu­pied in his domestic concerns, until the hour of his mortality approached. Walking out one day in June 1786, he was overpowered by the extreme heat of the sun, which brought on a disorder that carried him off, a few days after, on the 19th of the same month.

When the melancholy account of his death arrived at Savannah, the people were struck with the deepest [Page 107] sorrow. All business was suspended. The shops and stores throughout the town were shut: and the shipping in the harbour had their colours half­masted.

The body was brought to Savan­nah, and interred on the 20th. The funeral procession was attended by the Cincinnati, militia, &c. &c.

Immediately after the interment of the corpse, the members of the Cin­cinnati retired to the coffee-house in Savannah, and came to the following resolution:

"That as a token of the high re­spect and veneration in which this so­ciety hold the memory of their late illustrious brother, major-general [Page 108] Greene, deceased, George Washing­ton Greene, his eldest son, be admit­ted a member of this socity, to take his seat on his arriving at the age of 18 years."

General Greene left behind him a wife, and five children, the eldest of whom was about 11 years old.

On Tuesday the 12th of August, the United States in Congress assem­bled came to the following resolu­tion:

"That a monument be erected to the memory of Nathaniel Greene, esq. at the seat of the federal govern­ment, with the following inscrip­tion;— ‘ [Page 109] Sacred to the memory of NATHANIEL GREENE, ESQ. who departed this life, the 19th of June, 1786, LATE MAJOR-GENERAL in the service of the United States, and commander of their army in the southern department. The United States in Congress assembled, in honour of his patriotism, valour, and ability, have erected THIS MONUMENT.’

AMIDST an exuberant variety of fanciful and new-fangled opinions, lately obtruded on the public, and de­fended with all the dexterity that casu­istry can afford, there is none more absurd than that of those persons who decry and endeavour to prevent the migration of Europeans to America. A paragraphist, in one of the late pa­pers, in support of such conduct, tells us that ‘water and oil may as easily be made to unite as the subjects of monarchies with the citizens of the republics of America.’ An intelli­gent [Page 111] reader must find it difficult to de­cide which is the more contemptible of the two, the illiberality of such an idea, or the gross ignorance of the writer, who dared to advance a falsehood, which a school-boy could detect. Un­der what form of government was the gallant Montgomery born and educa­ted? Under "a monarchy." The marquis de la Fayette, the marquis de Rochambeau, baron Steuben, ba­ron de Kalb, count Pulaski, count d'Estaign, general Mercer, general Stewart, general Gates, and an innu­merable band of other heroes and pa­triots, whose exploits during the late war, have immortalized their names, and must, in these states, render them [Page 112] sacred to the latest posterity, have ‘ united with the citizens of these repub­lics,’ and been efficaciously instru­mental in establishing their founda­tions, although they were the "sub­jects of monarchies." Nine-tenths of the first settlers of North-America, and of all the emigrants who have since arrived here, were "subjects of monarchies." To pass from this western hemisphere, let us touch upon the bright constellation of worthies who grace the annals of liberty in the old world—Let us contemplate and emulate the virtues of Brutus, the scourge of the Tarquins; Tell, the deliverer of Switzerland; Doria, the deliverer of Genoa; Gustavus Vasa, [Page 113] the deliverer of Sweden; Paoli, the hero of Corsica; Hambden, Sidney, Price, Montesquieu, Raynal, Bec [...]a­ria, and thousands of others, whose bosoms have been warmed with as pure and hallowed a spirit of liberty, benevolence, and philanthropy, as ever animated the [...] repub­lican. These have been the "subjects of monarchies,"or (still worse) archducal, ducal, or aristocratical tyrannies, Yet who is there in "these republics," that would not esteem it the summit of his ambition to merit and attain the reputation they have justly acquired

This sage politician asks in a trium­phant style, ‘How few of the men [Page 114] who have come among us since the peace, have assimilated to our man­ners and government?’ With much more foundation and justice may it be demanded, how few are they who have not thus assimilated themselves?...... Had "the subjects of monar­chies," who have given this genius so much uneasiness, been excluded from these shores, the aborigines would have possessed them to this day unmolested. If no plants are to be grafted on the old stock, but such as "source" from republican extraction, vain have been the endeavours of the American Solon and his coadjutors, who framed the constitution, and wisely in that held out inducements to [Page 115] migration. Few, alas! are the repub­lics of Europe: and from those few, emigration is extremely rare. And it may be made a question, whether the abject slaves or lordly aristocrats of Venice or Genoa, would be much more eligible persons to naturalize here, than the "subjects of monarchies," however despotic. Those Germans to whom Pennsylvania owes so much with respect to agriculture, improve­ments, industry, and opulence, were transplanted from the most despotic soils. Here they became meliorated, and have furnished some of the most active and zealous friends and support­ers of America's independence. The same will hold equally true of those [Page 116] numerous swarms of Irishmen, who both before and during the arduous struggle, came into this country.—Their valour and conduct were dis­played by sea and land—and history will bear the most honourable testimo­ny of their heroism.

What then becomes of the random assertions of this writer? What end can he propose to answer but to divide the people of this country, and create dissentions and ill blood between the old citizens, and those who are on every occasion spoken of with a kind of supercilious and impertinent oblo­quy and contempt as new comers—new comers? Are not the unhappy divisions between constitutionalists and republi­cans, [Page 117] enough to impede and prevent the welfare and happiness of the state? Must more distinctions and differences be created, in order to counteract the efforts of true patriots to promote the common good? The monitorial page of history warns mankind incessantly, to beware of the shoals and quick­sands to be dreaded from intestine divisions. The death-bed maxim of Micipsa, given to Jugurtha, "By unanimity weak states gather strength; by discord, powerful ones fall to ruin," has been wisely adopted as the motto of the United Provinces, and is equally applicable to the United States. To what was owing the fall of Carthage, of mighty Rome, of Mexico, of [Page 118] Peru? To intestine divisions. What fixed the power of the Macedonians in Greece?—What established the Romans in Greece, in Gaul, in Bri­tain, and in almost all their conquests? What subjected Wales and Ireland to England? What crowned Henry the fifth of England in Paris? What prostrated China to the Tartars? What enabled three royal robbers to plunder Poland, and to strip it of some of its most valuable territories, and five millions of people? The in­testine divisions of the inhabitants of those various countries. In sine, let history be carefully examined, and it will appear, that few empires, king­doms, states, or republics, have ever [Page 119] been destroyed, without internal dis­cord being one of the primary causes. Surely, then, he must be a most dan­gerous enemy to this country, who endeavours to excite jealousy and dis­union here, from which so many evil consequences must naturally and ine­vitably arise. Let all such persons meet with the detestation and scorn they merit. Let the Americans, to use the words of this paragraphist, "give a preference to our old citizens," whenever their merit and abilities en­title them to it. But should the new comer be found to possess those qua­lities in a higher degree, let him not be exposed to neglect, abuse, or scur­rility, merely because, actuated by a [Page 120] love of liberty, he has given this country a preference to his own, and abandoned his friends and relatives to coalesce with the inhabitants of Ame­rica, who, as general Washington de­clares in his farewel address, "HAVE OPENED AN ASYLUM FOR THE OP­PRESSED AND DISTRESSED OF ALL NATIONS."

As this is a subject on which many well meaning persons have been led to form very erroneous opinions, by the artful insinuations of designing men, it will be allowable to pursue it a little further. In Europe, the im­portance of preventing emigration is fully understood; and in most states no pains are spared to chain the in­habitants [Page 121] to the soil. To entice ar­tists and manufacturers from Britain is a high crime and misdemeanor: and, according to Chambers, in the same country, artificers in iron, steel, brass or other metal, or in wool, going out of the kingdom into any foreign country, without licence, are liable to be imprisoned three months, and fined any sum not exceeding one hundred pounds. And those who go abroad, and do not return on warn­ing given by the British ambassadors, are disabled from holding lands by descent or devise, from receiving any legacy, &c. and are deemed aliens. It is the same in several other states of Europe. Edward the third who [Page 122] established the woollen manufacture in England, effected it by enticing some weavers from Flanders. Such was the origin of that trade which forms the basis of English opulence and commerce to this day. May not some of the emigrants from Europe, esta­blish manufactures here which in time will prove equally lucrative and bene­ficial? The impolicy of Lewis the fourteenth in revoking the edict of Nantz, and the consequent emigration from France of hundreds of thousands of valuable artists and manufacturers, imparted various arts to Germany, Holland, and England, whereof France had had an almost entire monopoly. Among these we may [Page 123] enumerate the manufacture of paper, silk, looking glasses, . . The expulsion of the Moors from Spain tended greatly to the impoverishment of that country, and to the abridgment of its manufactures, trade, and com­merce. Are not these and numerous other instances which might be addu­ced, sufficient to prove how far sage policy requires America to hold out every possible encouragement to indu­strious persons to migrate here, with their acquirements, their property, and their families? What then shall we say of those who are incessantly heaping scurrility and abuse on them? The answer is obvious. They must be either ignorant, illiberal, and [Page 124] mean persons: or those who have some selfish or party purpose to an­swer by such a vile conduct. If the former be the case, they claim our pity or contempt: if the latter, our hatred.

Philadelphia, Aug.30, 1786.

YOU have asked my opinion respecting over-trading, of which you seem to be highly afraid. But I hope so clearly to point out its advantages, as to remove all your scruples, and to induce you to pursue the steps of so many of your fellow citizens, who enjoy all the comforts and conveni­ences of this laudable practice.

[Page 159] With all my partiality for it, I freely acknowledge, that its benefits do not appear very evident, but at particular seasons, and during times of stagnation.—When business is brisk, one is tempted to overlook the advan­tages. But he must be a most incor­rigible sceptic, that can doubt its bles­sings, when money is scarce, when trade is dull, when banks curtail dis­counts, &c.

In the first place, during the winter and summer months, when business is at a stand, and nothing doing, what resource can a man have, who has not over-traded, to keep himself employed? None. He is devoured by vapours, by ennui, by listlessness. [Page 160] Time hangs on his hands a heavy burden.

But mark the contrast. The man who has run himself comforably in debt, to the amount of 15, 20, or 30,000 dollars, has not an unemployed vacant hour, day or night. As soon as he rises in the morning, he has to exercise himself in walking over the city to borow a few dollars here and there—What a charming opportunity it gives a man to see his acquaintance! How acceptable must his visits be, which are certain title-pages to a beggarly request for money! What a touchstone he is to prove the sincerity of his friends!—When he lies down at night, slumber flies from his pillow, [Page 161] and his whole attention is turned to devise siscal arrangements for the fol­lowing day.

As times grow worse, these com­forts increase. You have the pleasure sometimes of borrowing daily, to pay the succeeding morning or afternoon. What a respectable sight it is, to behold you or your clerk, sneaking to the bank after the directors have gone away, to anticipate, by a few hours, the knowledge of their decision upon the notes you have offered! What a mournful countenance you exhibit, when your notes are returned to you, hanging out of your book, with the mark of the beast on them! How you puff and blow running about [Page 162] from street to street, to borrow money, and get into bank before three o'clock! What a number of promises you make, impossible to be performed!

As the climax rises, new shifts open to your view. To over-draw is a most capacious one. It stays for a while the impending torrent of dis­tress. What a charming exercise for your dexterity, to keep your book out of the hands of the clerks, lest they should seize it, and expose how frequently the balance is on the wrong side!

When borrowing is at an end, and the clerks of the banks grow too wary to allow you to over-draw, a further advantage arises. You are [Page 163] introduced to the acquaintance of that very worthy and conscientious race of men, who seem born for the relief of persons in distress. I mean the friendly class of usurers. You may at first hire money of them, at one per cent. a month—afterwards at two—and, as their charity grows with your distress, it will probably rise to four or five, if your sufferings should be so great as to excite an extraordinary degree of sympathy in their tender hearts.

You will probably think that this is the ne plus ultra of the advantages of this mode of doing business. So did I at first. But I soon discovered my mistake. Rats, they say, desert a [Page 164] sinking ship. They are warned by the instinct bestowed on them by mother nature. The usurers possess an instinct similar to this—and generally smell out a sinking firm, from which they contrive to make an early escape. Then your acquaintance extends fur­ther. A worthy man, whom they call a notary public, kindly calls on you, brightens up your recollection of a note you forgot to pay a bank, and demands payment, which you are not able to make. This visit, sup­posing you are possessed of any sensi­bility, displays your countenance to great advantage. The pleasing mix­ture of charming red with which it [Page 165] suffuses your cheeks, heightens your natural beauties to the utmost degree.

I have not noticed the amount of the interest you pay. Supposing you to have the moderate sum of 12,000 dollars of bank money in trade, you do not pay much more than 1,000 dollars a year. This is a mere baga­telle, unworthy of notice. Indeed, were it not for some such drain as this, it would be impossible to find employment for the immense profits of trade at present.

Another advantage which I passed over, is, the improvement in polite­ness and good behaviour, which you derive from your cringing visits to directors and presidents of banks— [Page 166] your dancing attendance at their levees—your requests, they will be so kind as to pay attention to your notes, &c.

I might extend the enumeration much farther—but shall conclude for the present with the observation, that the man who involves himself by over-trading, has, in the fullest sense of the words, "taken up his cross"—a cross which half a life may be too little to enable him to lay down again.

ARE the present times, really and bona fide, as distressing and calami­tous, as they are universally said to be? This question, which to many will appear as ridiculous as to de­mand, does the sun preside over the day, is asked with all the coolness and gravity of a stoic, and a serious answer is requested. Locke has some­where observed, that a want of as­certaining [Page 168] with precision the ideas con­veyed by words in general use, is one of the most abundant sources of hu­man ignorance and error. Perhaps, without incurring the charge of para­dox, it may be added, that the most familiar terms are often least under­stood. The ignobile vulgus, (with "reverence due and submission" be it said, five-sixths of mankind) pick up a set of phrases, which they repeat, parrot-like, by rote, without con­ceiving any clear idea of them, or being able, if required, to define their meaning,—Lest, therefore, our ideas of distress and calamity should not co­incide with those of our readers, we will ask a question or two.—What is [Page 169] distress?—What is calamity?—Some folk, very probably, think it mighty distressing, that a man who begins bu­siness with a slender capital, or per­haps on the broad bottom of a patched­up credit, cannot keep his country house, his phaeton, his chaise, or even his pair of horses; that he cannot have above half a dozen dishes smoak­ing on his table every day—nor en­tertain his friends en homme comme il saul. This is all the fault of the damned bad times!—It is, indeed, mighty calamitous, that the blind god­dess Fortune should have been so unkind to many sunny boys, hearty fellows, jovial souls, sprightly lads, and others of that noble fraternity, as [Page 170] to have made them sons and heirs of poverty and empty purse, at the same time that ‘Nature indulgently en­dowed them with all the innocent desires, appetites, wishes and passions, of dukes and earls;’ so that while they have all the faculties and talents requisite to shine with wonderful eclat, in the sporting away some thousands per annum, they are obliged to confine themselves to the obscurity and insig­nificance of their stores— What a piti­able case!— It is also dreadfully dis­tressing, that a clerk or shopkeeper, who is charitably and innocently dis­posed to provide for a female friend, in some retired country spot, such as Kensington, Germantown, &c.—ride [Page 171] out ten or a dozen miles to dinner on Sundays—play a few games at billi­ards now and then— keep it up two or three nights in the week—and in­dulge himself in various other equally harmless modes of recreation, should be obliged, by the general dullness of the times, to stupify himself plodding over his waste-books, his journals and his ledgers, or warming his toes, kick­ing the threshold of his employer's door—and all this owing to the dead­ness of the season, bad times, scarcity of money, stagnation of trade, &c.—Is it not also a most lamentable consi­deration, that an artizan or mechanic, who could find a thousand laudable ways of recreating himself at billiards, [Page 172] bowls, tennis, all fours, &c. or over his glass of cherry bounce, his brandy­sling, or his bowl of bub, should be obliged, by the mere severity of the times, to work six days in the week, at so very low a rate as five, six, se­ven, or eight dollars?—Hard must be the heart of him who can hear of all those unparalleled miseries and dis­tresses, without shedding— tears of blood.—We may justly cry out with the Mantuan bard— "Quis, talia sando, temperet a lacrymis?"

A truce with irony—or (as the four cynic will say) with nonsense. Do not people in general live comfortably here? Have not bankruptcies (the most insallible criteria of bad times) [Page 173] subsided for a considerable time past? Do not manufacturers ordinarily find a ready vent for all the goods they make? Is not the number of unem­ployed mechanics very small?—If the intelligent reader shall answer these questions in the affirmative, it is an obvious inference, that the pre­sent times cannot, in strict propriety of language, be called calamitous or distressing.

Whoever pursues this very interest­ing reflection to a greater extent, will probably agree, that of the few who give themselves the trouble of think­ing, by far the major part have only confused ideas of even the most fami­liar terms; whence all their premises [Page 174] and conclusions are involved in a chaos. This is the only mode of ac­counting for the universality of the outcry against the misery of the times. That there is vastly less money here at present than immediately subse­quent to the conclusion of the late war, is incontestible: but with nations as with individuals, happiness de­pends not upon wealth. Is the cit, possessed of his tens of thousands, or the planter, owner of boundless acres, and numerous corps of the swarthy victims of his avarice and pride, in­trinsically happier than the merry cobler, who sits in his stall, singing,

[Page 175] Are the lazy enervate sons of Mexico and Peru, who annually deluge Eu­rope with their gold, silver, and pre­cious stones, happier than the hardy, innocent, and poor inhabitants of Switzerland? In the scale of reason and common sense, doubtless not. To pursue this analogy:

So sung Pope, relatively to the happiness of individuals: what is true of them will equally hold with respect to aggregate bodies—for whatever constitutes the happiness of one man, should equally conduce (whim and [Page 176] caprice excluded) to that of his neighbour—and so on, ad infinitum. It is unnecessary to add, that if each member of a society be happy, the society itself must consequently be so. What is deducible from this?—That Pennsylvania, posessing a healthy climate—being in the enjoyment of peace—and producing more than is necessary to procure a supply of all those articles (if any such there be) which she must have recourse to fo­reign nations for, [i.e. in other words, being possessed of a [...]] if she be not really happy, she must charge it to the account of her own folly, imprudence, and party squabbles.