savins to make discovery but could see no one. told the Gen. on my return.

This I

He upbraided me for my presumption. He said 'they might have sprung on you and took you. Never do the like again.'

I

When I returned the next evening, he gave me stricter charge than before. There was nothing occurred till I ascended the height, I then plainly saw three persons dodge behind the savins. I hesitated what to do. placed my head to the ground to obtain a clear view on the opposite side. In an instant three men rushed from behind the savins on the other side in full run to me. I rose and ran with all my speed. No Grecian in their celebrated games exerted himself more than I did. I found one of the three was a near match for me. I gave the countersign without much ceremony. The sentinel turned on his heels and fled. I went to the General's quarters, and on presenting his letter I said,

'Here is the letter you gave me,' and then related the above story to him.

He told me I might retire, and I need not call on him again, till he should give me notice. He strictly charged me, when in company, or in the camp, to make myself a stranger to the movement of friends or foes, never to enter into any dispute about war or the army, but always be an inquirer.

In about a week the General sent for me, and I repaired to his quarters at the usual hour. He inquired if I was ever down on what was then called Cambridge Neck. I told him I had been there twice. He then handed me a letter, as usual, and said,

'Go to the lower house, and enter the front door, and when you enter the room, if there be more than one person present, sit down, and make yourself a stranger. When all have gone out of the room, but one, then get up, and walk across the room repeatedly; after you have passed and repassed, he will take a letter out of his pocket and present it to you, and as he is doing this, you must take this letter out of your pocket and present it to him

I charge you not to speak a word to him on the peril of your life. It is important that you observe this."

I went to the house, and on entering the room, I found but one man in it, and he was at the corner of the room. He rose on my entering. I immediately commenced my travel across the room, and at the same time, eyeing him attentively. The third time I passed, he put his hand into his pocket, took a letter out, extended it towards me, and I took out my letter, and extended it towards him. With his other hand he took hold of my letter, and I did the same with his. I then retired with a bow, and returned to the General. We two could well recognize each other, though we were not allowed to speak. This mode of communication continued for some time.

One evening, as this man was presenting his letter, he whispers to me, 'tell General Washington the British are coming out on the neck to-morrow morning, at two o'clock.'

When I delivered the letter to General Washington, I addressed him thus, "General, the person who delivered this letter to me, whispered and said, 'tell General Washington the British are coming out on the neck tomorrow morning at two o'clock.'

The General started, and inquired, 'was it the same person you received the letters from before? Yes sir." He then broke the letter, and read it, after which, he asked, did you speak to him?'

'No Sir."

Then saying, 'Stop here till I return,' he took his hat and cane and locked the door after him. He was gone nearly an hour and a half.

When he returned, he said, 'I do not know that I shall need your service any more; you will continue about the encampment, and I will allow you the same pay you have now.'

Having nothing to do, I had the curiosity to ramble about in the army and vicinity, to find the man who whispered to me, but I never saw him. Whether that whisper was fatal to him, I know not. The injunction

on me was paramount to it, in case of disobedience. I continued with the army till they left Cambridge, then I was discharged.

Shortly after the battle of Long Island, the regiment to which my father and brothers were attached, laid with Washington at White Plains; and after his retreat from there, it was ordered on to Fort Washington. This fortress was attacked on the 16th of November, 1776, by four divisions of the enemy and at four different points. The garrison fought bravely whilst it had ammunition. When this became exhausted it capitulated; my father was wounded, and by capitulation became a prisoner of war and was thrown into a prison ship, where he endured great privations and sufferings.

When my brothers informed my mother of the situation of my father, she followed his destiny and threw herself into the British camp, and begged permission of the officers to go on board the prison ship and minister to his wants, relieve him in his sufferings, and soothe him as far as practicable in his suffering condition. She begged this privilege of the British commander and officers for God's sake, but for a long time they were deaf to her entreaties. After repeated importunities her request was at length granted. She was not very long on board the prison ship, until she fell sick with disease contracted in her constant attendance upon my father amidst the sickening staunch arising within the ship,-this sickness was owing to that great pestilential stench created by so many sick and wounded soldiers being huddled together in so confined a place as a prison ship. My mother begged so hard of the officers in the midst of her sickness for the release of my father, that they were induced at length to let him off upon parole of honor, as it was called; the purport of which was, that he was not to be found bearing arms thereafter against Great Britain.

My father and mother in part recovered, set out in their weak state of health for home, but, upon reaching Philadelphia my mother was taken ill again and shortly afterwards died in that city.

General Washington made an attack with singularly good fortune upon a body of Hessians. He crossed the Delaware River at Trenton on the night of the 25th (Christmas) of December, 1776, and fell upon them and captured nearly 1000 prisoners, with which he recrossed the Delaware. Washington lost but nine men in achieving this brilliant victory. The news of this noble exploit constituted a fine Christmas gift from Washington to the friends of Liberty throughout the struggling States of the youthful Republic.

THE BATTLE OF TRENTON.

FROM THE MANUSCRIPT OF AN EYE-WITNESS.

"Whose bullet on the night air sang?"

Bride of Abydos. I had scarcely put my foot in the stirrup before an aidde-camp from the commander-in-chief galloped up to me with a summons to the side of Washington. I bowed in reply, and dashed up the road. The general in chief was already on horseback, surrounded by his staff, and on the point of setting out. He was calm and collected,

as if in his cabinet.

No sooner did he see me than he waved his hand as a signal to halt. I checked my steed on the instant, lifted my hat, and waited his commands, "You are a native of this country?"

"Yes!-your excellency."

"You know the roads from M'Conkey's ferry to Trenton-by the river and to Pennington-the byeroads and all."

"As well as I know my alphabet," and I patted the neck of my impatient charger.

"Then I may have occasion for you you will remain with the staff-ah! that is a spirited animal you ride, Lieutenant Archer," he added smilingly, as the fiery beast made a demivolt, that set half the group in commotion.

"Your excellency-"

"Never mind," said Washington, smiling again, as

another impatient spring of my charger, cut short the sentence, "I see the heads of the columns are in motionyou will remember," and waving his hand he gave the rein to his steed, while I fell back bewildered into the staff.

The ferry was close at hand, but the increased cold made the march any thing but pleasant. We all however, hoped on the morrow to redeem our country by striking a signal blow, and every heart beat high with the anticipation of victory. Column after column of our little army defiled at the ferry, and the night had scarcely set in before the embarcation began.

At last we crossed the Delaware. The whole nigh had been consumed in transportation of the men and artillery, and the morning was within an hour or two of dawning before the last detachment had been embarked. As I wheeled my horse on the little bank above the landing place, I paused an instant to look back through the obscurity on the scene. The night was dark, wild and threatening the clouds betokened an approaching tempest--and I could with difficulty penetrate with my eye, the fast increasing gloom. As I put my hand across my brows to pierce into the darkness, a gust of wind, sweeping down the river, whirled the snow in my face and momentarily blinded my sight. At last I discerned the opposite shore amid the obscurity. The landscape was wild and gloomy. A few desolate looking houses were in sight, and they scarcely perceptible in shadowy twilight. The bare trees lifted their hoary arms on high, groaning and creaking in the gale. The river was covered with drifting ice, that now jammed with a crash together, and then floated slowly apart, leaving scarcely space for the boats to pass. The dangers of the navigation can better be imagined than described-for the utmost exertions could often just prevent the frail structures from being crushed. Occasionally a stray fife would be heard shooting shrilly over the waters, mingling freely with the fiercer pipings of the winds,and anon the deep roll of the drum would boom across the night, the