since, viz of their having bayoneted a general officer after he had surrendered his sword, and become a prisoner of war-declaring that he only relinquished his sword when his arm had become powerless to wield it. He paid the homage of his whole heart to the person and character of the commander-in-chief, rejoiced with true soldierly pride in the triumphs of Trenton and Princeton, in both of which he had borne a conspicuous part, and offered up his fervent prayers for the final success of the cause of American independence.

Thus lived and died Hugh Mercer, a name that will for ever be associated with momentous events in the history of the War of the Revolution. When a grateful posterity shall bid the trophied memorial rise to the martyrs who sealed with their blood the charter of an empire's liberties, there will not be wanting a monument to him whom Washington mourned as the worthy and brave General Mercer.

We shall give a single anecdote of the subject of the foregoing memoir, to show the pure and high minded principles that actuated the patriots and soldiers of the days of our country's first trial.

Virginia at first organized two regiments for the common cause. When it was determined to raise a third, there were numerous applications for commissions; and, these being mostly from men of fortune and family interest, there was scarcely an application for a rank less than a field officer. During the sitting of the house of burgesses upon the important motion, a plain but soldierlylooking individual handed up to the speaker's chair a scrap of paper, on which was written, "Hugh Mercer will serve his adopted country and the cause of liberty in any rank or station to which he may be appointed." This, from a veteran soldier, bred in European camps, the associate of Washington in the war of 1755, and known to stand high in his confidence and esteem, was all-sufficient for a body of patriots and statesmen, such as composed the Virginia house of burgesses in the days of the revolution. The appointment of Mercer to the command of the third Virginia regiment was carried instanter.

It was was while the commander-in-chief reined up his horse, upon approaching the spot in a ploughed field where lay the gallant Colonel Haslett mortally wounded, that he perceived some British soldiers supporting an officer, and upon inquiring his name and rank, was answered, Captain Leslie. Doctor Benjamin Rush, who formed a part of the general's suite, earnestly asked, "A son of the earl of Leven?" to which the soldiers replied in the affirmative. The doctor then addressed the general-in-chief: "I beg your excellency to permit this wounded officer to be placed under my care, that I may return, in however small a degree, a part of the obligations I owe to his worthy father for the many kindnesses received at his hands while I was a student in Edinburgh." The request was immediately granted; but, alas! poor Leslie was soon past all surgery." He died the same evening, after receiving every possible kindness and attention, and was buried the next day at Pluckemin, with the honors of war; his soldiers, as they lowered his remains to the soldier's last rest, shedding tears over the grave of a much loved commander.

The battle of Princeton, for the time it lasted and the numbers engaged, was the most fatal to our officers of any action during the whole of our revolutionary war; the Americans losing one general, two colonels, one major, and three captains, killed-while the martial prowess of our enemy shone not with more brilliant lustre in any one of their combats during their long career of arms than did the courage and discipline of the seventeenth British regiment on the third of January, 1777. Indeed, Washington himself, during the height of the conflict, pointed out this gallant corps to his officers, exclaiming, "See how those noble fellows fight! Ah! gentlemen, when shall we be able to keep an army long enough together to display a discipline equal to our enemies?"

The regular troops that constituted the grand army at the close of the campaign of '76, were the fragments of many regiments, worn down by constant and toilsome marches, and suffering of every sort, in the depth of winter. The fine regiment of Smallwood, composed of the flower of the Maryland youth, and which, in the June preceding, marched into Philadelphia eleven hundred strong, was, on the third of January, reduced to scarcely sixty men, and commanded by a captain. In fact, the bulk of what was then called the grand army, consisted of the Pennsylvania militia and volunteers, citizen soldiers who had left their comfortable homes at the call of their country, and were enduring the rigors of a winter campaign. On the morning of the battle of Princeton, they had been eighteen hours under arms, and harassed by a long night's march. Was it then to be wondered at that they should have given way before the veteran bayonets of their fresh and well-appointed foe?

The heroic devotion of Washington was not wanting in the exigencies of this memorable day. He was aware that his hour was come to redeem the pledge he had laid on the altar of his country when first he took up arms in her cause: to win her liberties or perish in the attempt. Defeat at Princeton would have amounted to the annihilation of America's last hope; for, independent of the enemy's forces in front, Cornwallis, with the flower of the British army eight thousand strong, was already panting close on the rear. It was, indeed, the very crisis of the struggle. In the hurried and imposing events of little more than one short week, liberty endured her greatest agony. What, then, is due to the fame and memories of that sacred band, who, with the master of liberty at their head, breasted the storm at this fearful crisis of their country's destiny? The heroic devotion of Washington on the field of Princeton is matter of history. We have often enjoyed a touching reminiscence of that ever-memorable event from the late Colonel Fitzgerald, who was aid to the chief, and who never related the story of his general's danger and almost miraculous preservation, without adding to his tale the homage of a tear.

The aid-de-camp had been ordered to bring up the troops from the rear of the column, when the band under General Mercer became engaged. Upon returning to the spot where he had left the commander-in-chief, he was no longer there, and, upon looking around, the aid discovered him endeavoring to rally the line which had been thrown into disorder by a rapid onset of the foe. Washington, after several ineffectual efforts to restore the fortunes of the fight, is seen to rein up his horse, with his head to the enemy, and, in that position to become immoveable. It was a last appeal to his soldiers, and seemed to say, "Will you give up your general to the foe?" Such an appeal was not made in vain. The discomfited Americans rally on the instant, and form into line; the enemy halt, and dress their line; the American chief is between the adverse posts, as though he had been placed there, a target for both. The arms of both lines are levelled. Can escape from death be possible? Fitzgerald, horror-struck at the danger of his beloved commander, dropped the reins upon his horse's neck, and drew his hat over his face, that he might not see him die. A roar of musketry succeeds, and then a shout. It was the shout of victory. The aid-de-camp ventures to raise his eyes, and oh, glorious sight, the enemy are broken and flying, while dimly amid the glimpses of the smoke is seen the chief, "alive, unharmed, and without a wound," waving his hat, and cheering his comrades to the pursuit.

Colonel Fitzgerald, celebrated as one of the finest horsemen in the American army, now dashed his rowels in his charger's flank, and, heedless of the dead and dying in his way, flew to the side of his chief, exclaiming, "Thank God! your excellency is safe," while the favorite aid, a gallant and warm-hearted son of Erin, a man of thews and sinews, and "albeit unused to the melting mood," gave loose to his feelings, and wept like a child for joy.

Washington, ever calm amid scenes of the greatest excitement, affectionately grasped the hand of his aid and friend, and then ordered, "Away, my dear Colonel, and bring up the troops; the day is our own!"

Early in the morning Earl Cornwallis discovered that General Washington had decamped, and soon afterward the report of the artillery in the engagement with Colonel Mawhood near Princeton, convinced him of the direction which the American army had taken. Alarmed for the safety of the British stores at New Brunswick, he advanced rapidly toward Princeton. In the American army it had indeed been proposed to make a forced march to New Brunswick, where all the baggage of the British army was deposited; but the complete exhaustion of the men, who had been without rest, and almost without food for two days and nights, prevented the adoption of the measure. General Washington proceeded toward Morristown, and Lord Cornwallis pressed on his rear; but the Americans, on crossing Millstone river, broke down the bridge at Kingston, to impede the progress of their enemies; and there the pursuit ended. Both armies were completely worn out, the one being as unable to pursue as the other was to retreat. General Washington took a position at Morristown, and Lord Cornwallis reached New Brunswick, where no small alarm had been excited by the advance of the Américans, and where every exertion had been made for the removal of the baggage, and for defending the place.

General Washington fixed his headquarters at Morristown, situated among hills of difficult access, where he had a fine country in his rear, from which he could easily draw supplies, and was able to retreat across the Delaware, if needful. Giving his troops little repose, he overran both East and West Jersey, spread his army over the Raritan, and penetrated into the county of Essex, where he made himself master of the coast opposite Staten Island. With a greatly inferior army, by judicious movements, he wrested from the British almost all their conquests in the Jerseys. New Brunswick and Amboy were the only posts which remained in their hands, and even in these they were not a little harassed and straitened. The American detachments were in a state of unwearied activity, frequently surprising and cutting off the British advanced guards, keeping them in perpetual alarm, and melting down their numbers by a desultory and indecisive warfare.

General Howe had issued a proclamation, calling on the colonists to support his majesty's government, and promising them protection both in their persons and property. General Washington accompanied his successful operations with a counter-proclamation, absolving the inhabitants from their engagements to Britain, and promising them protection on their submission to congress. This was a seasonable proclamation, and produced much effect. Intimidated by the desperate aspect of American affairs when General Washington retreated into Pennsylvania, many of the inhabitants of the Jerseys had taken advantage of General Howe's proclamation, and submitted to the British authority; but with respect to the promised protection, they had been entirely disappointed. Instead of protection and conciliation, they had been insulted by the rude insolence of a licentious soldiery, and plundered with indiscriminate and unsparing rapacity. Their passions were exasperated; they thirsted for vengeance, and were prepared for the most vindictive hostility against the British troops. Hence the soldiers could not venture out to forage, except in large parties; and they seldom returned without loss.

Their licentious insolence and merciless rapacity lost more than their bravery gained, and inspired the people with a deadly enmity against the British govern

ment.

In ancient warfare the vanquished who were unable to make their escape were not unfrequently put to death on the field of battle; at times their lives

were spared, when they were sold as slaves, or otherwise treated with indignity and cruelty; but the mild genius of Christianity has communicated its gentle and benevolent spirit to all the relations of life, has softened even the horrid features of war, and infused sentiments and feelings of kindness amid the din of arms. Among the civilized nations of modern Europe, prisoners-of-war are commonly treated with humanity, and principles are established on which they are exchanged. The British officers, however, considered the Americans as rebels deserving condign punishment, and not entitled to the sympathetic treatment commonly shown to the captive soldiers of independent nations. They seem to have thought that the Americans would never be able, or would never dare to retaliate. Hence, at first, their prisoners were, in some instances, harshly treated. To this the Americans could not submit, but remonstrated; and, on finding their remonstrances disregarded, they adopted a system of retaliation, which occasioned much unmerited suffering to individuals, and reflected no honor on any of the contending parties. Colonel Ethan Allen, who had been defeated and made prisoner in a bold attempt against Montreal, was put in irons, and sent to England as a traitor. In retaliation, General Prescott, who had been taken at the mouth of the Sorel, was put in close confinement, for the avowed purpose of subjecting him to the same fate which Colonel Allen should suffer. Both officers and privates, prisoners to the Americans, were more rigorously confined than they would otherwise have been; and, that they might not impute this to wanton harshness and cruelty, they were distinctly told that their own superiors only were to blame for any severe treatment they might experience.

The capture of General Lee became the occasion of embittering the complaints on this subject, and of aggravating the sufferings of the prisoners-of-war. Before that event, something like a cartel for the exchange of prisoners had been established between Generals Howe and Washington; but the captivity of General Lee interrupted that arrangement. The general had been an officer in the British army; but, having been disgusted, had resigned his commission, and, at the beginning of the troubles, had offered his services to congress, which were readily accepted. General Howe affected to consider him as a deserter, and ordered him into close confinement.

General Washington had no prisoner of equal rank, but offered six Hessian field-officers in exchange for him; and required that, if that offer should not be accepted, General Lee should be treated according to his rank in the American army. General Howe replied that General Lee was a deserter from his majesty's service, and could not be considered as a prisoner-of-war, nor come within the conditions of the cartel. A fruitless discussion ensued between the commanders-in-chief. Congress took up the matter; and resolved that General Washington be directed to inform General Howe, that should the proffered exchange of six Hessian field-officers for General Lee not be accepted, and his former treatment continued, the principle of retaliation shall occasion five of the Hessian field-officers, together with Lieutenant-Colonel Archibald Campbell, or any other officers that are or shall be in possession of the Americans, equivalent in number or quality, to be detained, in order that the treatment which General Lee shall receive may be exactly inflicted upon their persons. Congress also ordered a copy of their resolution to be transmitted to the council of Massachusetts Bay, and that they be desired to detain Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell, and keep him in close custody till the further orders of congress; and that a copy be also sent to the committee of congress in Philadelphia, and that they be desired to have the prisoners, officers and privates, lately taken, properly secured in some safe place.

The honorable Lieutenant-Colonel Campbell, of the 71st regiment, with about 270 of his men, after a brave and obstinate defence, had been made prisoners in