ties to "sitt" at the said convention, at which it was declared that the grant should thenceforth be known as an independent State, and be called Vermont. A certain Williams, writing to the Secretary of the New York convention, mentions the affair, and says in regard to the pending election for Governor : I believe we have been pretty unanimous in the Election for governor and Lieutenant Governor, to witt, Gen1 Morin Scott & Clinton 1 but there were very few that voted. The Lott number 68 in Argyle belonging to Gen! Scott, I must beg you'll procure for me in behalf of Cap Martin, I'm informed som other people are after it. However I am of opinion Gen Scott will not Lett any one have it without giving Capt Martin the refusal. I am dear Sir your very Hum! Servt JOHN WILLIAMS.2 Morin Scott's name appears in the State Senate from the year 1777 to 1782; as a member of Congress from the year 1779 to 1781; as member of the Continental Congress, 1782-1783; as Secretary of State of New York from 1778 to 1789; and as member of Congress, 1780-1783. After the battle of White Plains the Americans were driven from position after position, and finally through the Jerseys to Princeton, Trenton, and into Pennsylvania. Then came the battle of Princeton, after which the greater part of New Jersey was recovered by the patriots. War was raging all around the old homestead, and while our modern Telemachus was enjoying his life of dolce far niente in the isles of the Atlantic, the courageous Penelope was guarding the lares and penates of her hearthstone. On the twenty-third of July Howe sailed from New 1 Clinton was nominee for Governor and Scott for Lieutenant-Governor, although from the letter it would appear vice versa. 2 Doc. Hist. York to attack Philadelphia, then the seat of the Continental Congress, and succeeded in reducing it by the twenty-sixth of September. Then came the defeat of Germantown and the long and dreary winter at Valley Forge, and at the close of 1777 the patriot cause was nearly ended. Then came the treaty with France, and D'Estaing's fleet approached the capital, and on the eighteenth of June, 1778, Howe's army evacuated Philadelphia and retreated across New Jersey. At Monmouth the British were overtaken. Sunday the twenty-eighth was an intensely hot day. Clinton was moving cautiously and Knyphausen was hastening forward on the Middletown road; the left wing, following, had passed a mile or more beyond the Court House. On the north, outflanking the British, were the American columns. Lee advanced from the old Monmouth church by the main road, crossing two deep ravines upon causeways; his left wing was folding around Cornwallis on the north, occupying superior ground; his centre, under Wayne, was close behind; and his right wing, under Lafayette, was already past the Court House, threatening the other end of the British lines, whose position was one of extreme danger, and there was every prospect of a glorious victory for the American army. Wayne had just begun a vigorous attack, but a halt was ordered by Lee. The British troops came down the road to separate Wayne and Lafayette; but it was an easy matter to check them, and the Marquis started to do so, but a halt was again ordered by Lee, who commanded, instead, a retreat across a marshy ravine. On the verge of a victory they were compelled to flee, but from what no one knew; and bitter disappointment took the place of their exultant ardor of the morning. The enemy began to pursue them, and as they crowded over the causeway the ranks began to fall into disorder and many sank exhausted by the heat, and some were slain by the enemy. The Marquis ordered an aid to seek the Commander-in-Chief and report the strange conduct of Lee. The soldier met him just where the road forks not far from the old Monmouth church and delivered his message. Washington hastily sprang to his horse and soon found himself in the midst of the disorder. A halt was ordered, and the retreating soldiers immediately wheeled and formed under the firing with as much calmness and precision as they could have shown on parade. And while they stopped the evening's progress Washington rode back and brought up the main body of his army, - Greene with his battery from the heights, and Wayne from the front; and the British were driven back upon the second ravine which Lee had crossed in the morning's advance. The gallant Steuben brought up from the rear, and night fell. Morning found the British troops withdrawn, and America claimed a victory. Lord Stanhope saw a drawn battle.1 This battle of Monmouth was partly fought on the land which fell to Philip's wife as her portion, and on which they resided after the flames had destroyed their residence at Mount Pleasant, from which the battle could be easily heard at the time, and in which were assembled his mother and her little family - all but Philip. i Gen. John Morin Scott took part in this battle, also Gen. David Forman. Г N Chapter Seventh EWS travelled slowly in the days of our ancestors, and for several reasons that of the Declaration of Independence was delayed in reaching Philip. First, the distance was great, the nearest point of land being Cape Hatteras, some six hundred and fifty miles distant; but on account of the war between Great Britain, to whom the Bermudas belonged, and the colonies, no American ship landed in her ports, and the trading vessels were few and far between. When at last the word, so delightful to Philip's ears, reached him, that the colonies had really declared themselves free, he quickly roused himself from the poetic languor that had taken possession of him, and embraced the first opportunity that presented of returning to his native land. The voyage was roundabout, and consumed considerable time; consequently he did not reach home until after the battle that had been fought so close to his doors. The fate of the "amiable Amanda" we have never learned. Whether, like Sappho, she took a fatal leap from the heights of one of the Bermuda peaks, or, like a sensible woman of the eighteenth century, bade her poet good-bye, with a promise to remember him. in her orisons, is unknown; and, as Philip's sonnets ceased to flow, her fate is buried in oblivion. Upon arriving in his native land Philip probably paid his respects to his mother. It is most likely, and then he buckled on his sword in his country's cause. This phrase is certainly figurative, for Philip could never buckle himself into anything that looked like a harness; but he did what lay in his power, he took out letters of marque and reprisal from the Continental Congress, and sailed far out on the deep blue sea to catch all the British ships he could find. We learn from the public print that he played sad havoc with the English merchantmen, capturing and destroying many. But after a time poor Philip came to grief, and the way it happened runneth thus. Whether he had purchased the ship he commanded or only used it for the time being we know not, but we do know that he had one building in the Philadelphia yards, which was his own, his very own-the dream of his life. Philadelphia was famous in those days for her shipbuilding capabilities; her harbor favoring it, she could easily bring from the Southern and New England States the best of woods for the purpose; and we are told that at one time might be seen some twenty ships in her stocks in progress of construction. Those she turned out were swift sailers, highly finished, and even considerably ornamented; so much so, indeed, that her figure-heads were praised by foreign artists. In fact the colonies had developed such talent in naval architecture that many of the English trading vessels were built in their yards.1 Although Philip's description of the building of his ship may not equal that of Schiller's, it may bear criticism: "Assist me, Clio! while in verse I tell The dire misfortunes that a ship befell, Which outward bound, to St. Eustatia's shore, 1 Mr. Eggleston, in The Century Magazine. |