hellish rage with a total massacre of the British. But, faithful to their friends, Washington's rangers stepped forth with joy to meet the assailants. Then rose a scene sufficient to fill the stoutest heart with horror. Burning alike for vengeance, both parties throw aside the slow-murdering rifles, and grasp their swift-fated tomahawks. Dreadfully above their heads gleams the brandished steel, as with full exerted limbs, and faces all inflamed with mortal hate, they level at each other their last decisive blows. Death rages through all their fast-thinning ranks his bleeding victims are rolled together on every side. Here falls the brave Virginia Blue, under the stroke of his nimbler foe-and there, man on man the Indians perish beneath the furious tomahawks, deep buried in the shattered brain. But who can tell the joy of Washington, when he saw this handful of his despised countrymen thus gallantly defending their British friends, and by dint of mortal steel driving back their blood thirsty assailants. Happy check! for by this time, covered with wounds Braddock had fallen-his aids and officers, to a man, killed or wounded-and his troops, in hopeless, helpless despair, flying backwards and forwards from the fire of the Indians, like flocks of crowding sheep from the presence of their butchers. Washington alone remained unhurt! Horse after horse had been killed under him. Showers of bullets had touched his locks or pierced his regimentals. But still protected by heaven-still supported by a strength not his own, he had continued to fly from quarter to quarter, where his presence was most needed, sometimes animating his rangers; sometimes striving, but in vain, to rally the regulars. "Twas his lot to be close to the brave but imprudent Braddock when he fell; and he assisted to place him in a tumbril, or little cart. As he was laid down, pale and near spent, with loss of blood, he faintly said to Washington"Well, Colonel, what's to be done now?"

"Retreat, Sir," replied Washington: "retreat by all means; for the Regulars won't fight; and the Rangers are nearly all killed !"

"Poor fellows!" he replied, "poor fellows!Well, do as you will, Colonel, do as you will."

The army then commenced its retreat, in a very rapid and disorderly manner, while Washington with his few surviving rangers, covered the rear.

Happily, the Indians did not pursue them far: but after firing a few random shots, returned in a body, to fall upon the plunder; while Washington, with his frightened fugitives continued their retreat, sadly remembering that more than one half of their morning's gay companions were left a prey to the ravening beasts of the desert. There, denied the common charities of the grave, they lay for many a year bleaching the lonely hills with their bones.

On reaching Fort Cumberland, where they met Colonel Dunbar with the rear of the army, General Braddock died. He died in the arms of Washington, whose pardon he often begged for having treated him so rudely that fatal morning-heartily wished, he said, he had but followed his advice-frequently called his rangers "brave fellows! glorious fellows!" Often said, he should be glad to live if it was only to reward their gallantry! I have more than once been told, but cannot vouch for the truth of it, that his sister, on hearing how obstinately Washington and his Blues had fought for her brother, was so affected that she shed tears: and sent them from England handsome cockades, according to their number, and a pair of colours elegantly wrought by her own fair hands.

With respect to Washington, I cannot but mention here two very extraordinary speeches that were made about him, after Braddock's defeat, and which, as things have turned out, look a good deal like prophecies. A famous Indian warrior, who acted a leading part in that bloody tragedy, was often heard

to swear, that" Washington was never born to be killed by a bullet! For," continued he "I had seventeen fair fires at him with my rifle, and after all could not bring him to the ground!" And indeed whoever considers that a good rifle levelled by a proper marksman, hardly ever misses its aim, will readily enough conclude with this unlettered savage, that there was some invisible hand that turned aside the bullets.

The Rev. Mr. Davies, in a sermon occasioned by Braddock's defeat, has these remarkable words "I beg leave to point the attention of the public to that heroic youth Colonel Washington, whom I cannot but hope Providence has preserved for some great service to this country!!"

But though the American writers have pretty unanimously agreed, that Washington was, under God, the saving Angel that stood up between Braddock's army and total destruction, yet did it profit him but little with his sovereign. The British officers indeed admired him: but they had no idea of going any farther: "To tell in Gath, or publish in the streets of Askalon" that a British army owed its safety to a young Buckskin, required a pitch of virtue and of courage above ordinary minds. Washington was therefore kept in the back ground; and General Braddock being dead, the command devolved upon Colonel Dunbar, whose conduct proved him to be one of those pusillanimous hirelings, who flee when the wolf cometh. To attempt, by some gallant effort to recover what Braddock had lost,-or to hang upon the enemy, and prevent, at least, those numerous scalping parties, which distracted with midnight murders and deluged the defenceless frontiers with blood, were brave and generous ideas, of which he seemed incapable. But, trembling under the general panic, he instantly ordered the tents to be struck; and pushing off under the whip and spur of his fears, never halted until he had reached Philadelphia; where he went, as he called it, into winter quarters,