the Hudson could throw their heavy metal. The disgraceful flight at Kip's Bay had allowed the British to gain so much time in landing, that to all human appearance they could stretch a cordon entirely across the island, before Putnam could reach Bloomingdale, and Washington looked upon him and his entire division as lost. Putnam thought so too, but determined not to despair so long as a ray of hope remained, and hurried on his flagging columns with all the energy he possessed. Riding from front to rear to encourage, to stimulate, and to threaten, he galloped backward and forward under the burning sun, his horse covered with foam and dust, and every lineament of his bold rough face revealing the intense anxiety under which he labored. A Quaker lady, named Murray, occupied at that time Murray Hill, and he sent to her to delay by her hospitality as long as possible, Sir Henry Clinton. As the latter, with his staff, passed the house on his way to the Bloomingdale road, this patriotic lady accosted him and cordially invited him to stop and take a glass of wine. The cool refreshments which followed, were most acceptable to the British officers, and she detained them by her courtesies till her negro servant, who had been stationed on the top of the house to watch the American army, returned and made the sign agreed upon, to indicate it was beyond danger. A portion of the British troops had struck it at right angles, and a severe skirmish followed, in which fifteen Americans were killed, and two or three hundred taken prisoners, but the main body had barely slipped by, the enemy's line closing behind them as they passed. When Clinton emerged from Mrs. Murray's house, he saw, to his utter mortification, the American ban ners fluttering far in advance, pointing proudly toward the heights on which was drawn up the rebel forces. As darkness shut in the scene, the weary column wound up the slope, and was received with shouts by the whole army, while Washington did not attempt to conceal his delight at

the energy and skill with which Putnam had brought off his troops. In the meantime the whole British army advanced, and at night encamped near the American workstheir lines stretching from river to river, and supported at each extremity by ships of war. Thus passed the night of the fifteenth of September. When the morning drum, rolling from river to river, awoke the two armies, Lord Howe turned his glass long and anxiously on the American works. Notwithstanding the easy victories he had obtained, he hesitated to attack a position so well chosen, and defended as the one before him. Washington, irritated at the moral effect produced on both armies by the dastardly conduct of his troops, was anxious to remove it, if possible, and resolved to attack any detachments that the enemy might send forward. During the day several parties appeared on the plain between the two armies, and a skirmish followed. This was no sooner reported to Washington, than he hastened to the outposts to ascertain the number and purpose of the enemy. While he was examining them, Colonel Knowlton came in and reported their number about three hundred. Washington immediately ordered him with his rangers, aided by Major Leitch, with three companies of Virginians, to attempt to gain their rear and cut them off. At the same time he directed a false attack to be made in front, to distract their attention from the real point of dan ger. The British detachment seeing the party approaching in front, retired to a cover of bushes and a fence. Knowlton, ignorant of this change of position, instead of gaining their rear as he expected, came suddenly on them in flak Major Leitch immediately advanced gallantly to the attack but fell pierced with three balls; Knowlton, hastening to his support, was also shot down. The troops, however, pressed fiercely on, and a reinforcement coming up, charged home so resolutely, that the enemy broke their cover and fled tc the open plain. Washington fearing that the British would

send out a large reinforcement, ordered the bugles to sound a recall, and the gallant detachment retired to their posts with the loss of sixty killed and wounded. The British acknowledged ninety killed and wounded. The death of Colonel Knowlton, however, made the balance of loss heavy against the Americans. He was one of Putnam's best officers. He had entered service when but sixteen years old, and been with Putnam in some of his hardest battles during the French war, and was among the first to rally to his old leader's side, after the skirmish at Lexington. He fought gallantly at Bunker Hill and Long Island, and was an officer of great promise. He fell at the age of thirty-six, on the threshold of that great struggle to which he would have given a clear head and a fearless heart. In his order the next day, Washington called him "the gallant and brave Knowlton, who would have been an honor to any country."

No one will ever know what he suffered during his retreat from New York up the Island. The embarrassments that overwhelmed him at every turn were enough in themselves to crush a commander, but when to all those was superadded utter want of confidence in his troops, there was nothing left on which to fall back. Disasters he could endure, but with soldiers he dared not trust in battle, no matter how inferior the enemy might be in force, that run away from even the sound of cannon, he was left utterly desolate. In a letter to his brother, speaking of the anguish that weighed him down at this time, he said he would not again undergo what he had suffered during those few days for a quarter of a million of dollars. The troops not only became cowards, but robbers, and under pretence of plundering the Tories, committed violence on the inhabitants indiscriminately. Thirty-nine lashes being the extent of the punishment allowed by the orders of Congress, the culprits treated it with contempt.

Howe was anxious to bring on a general engagement

without assaulting the Americans behind their works. Washington, having no confidence in the mass of his troops, was equally determined not to gratify him, and the two armies lay idly looking upon each other for three weeks. Washington, however, improved the time in strengthening his position. At length Howe determined to make another effort to gain the American rear, and sending three vessels of war up the Hudson, which passed the batteries on shore and obstructions in the channel with but little damage, he embarked his troops in flat-bottomed boats, on the East river, and sailing through Hell Gate, landed on Throg's Neck. Remaining here five days, he reëmbarked, and landing at Pell's Point, marched to the high grounds near New Rochelle.

The next morning Washington, who had been kept strangely ignorant of the roads and topography of the country to which the movements of the armies had been transferred, sent out Colonel Reed, and Rufus Putnam engineer in chief, with a foot guard of twenty men, to reconnoitre. Arriving on the heights of East Chester, they saw a small body of British, but could obtain no intelligence-the houses being all deserted. Colonel Reed here said he must return to attend to issuing general orders. Putnam replied that as yet they had made no discovery of consequence, and that if he went back he had better take the guard with him. As for himself, he was determined to proceed, and preferred to go alone. Putnam thus relates what followed, which I transcribe from his manuscript journal, as it throws new light on this portion of the campaign.

"I then disguised my appearance as an officer as far as 1 could, and set out on the road to White Plains. However, 1 did not then know where White Plains was, nor where the

road I had taken would carry me. I had gone about a mile and a half when a road turned off to the right; I followed it perhaps half a mile and came to a house where, I learned from