The New Hampshire Gazette

A Peep at Old Times.

The glorious result of the late naval action between the American Frigate Constitution, and the British Frigate Guerriere, in which the Wooden walls of Old England, were so terribly mauled. has brought to mind an event of the Revolutionary war the particulars of which I herewith send you requesting you to give them a place in your useful paper. A Subscriber.

In the year 1776, an attack was made on Sullivan's Island, in the harbor of Charleston, (S Carolina) by the land and naval force of Great Britain under the command of Sir Henry Clinton, and Sir Peter Parker.

After much time and labor, in lightening the heavy ships, they anchored opposite Fort Moultrie, and commenced a tremendous cannonade. General Clinton had landed his troops to the eastward of the harbor, with the intention of fording the channel. and attacking the Fort in the rear, while the ships attacked, it in front but from some mistake or want of knowledge of the depth of water in the channel he was unable or unwilling to attempt anything— In the mean time the Fort, by a regular and well directed fire nearly demolished the British fleet, and Sir Peter was fain to escape with the loss of half his men killed and wounded—among the latter himself—the tail of his breeches being shot away

The following humourous paraphrase of Sir Peter official letter to the Lords of the Admiralty, was written by an English wit of those days.

My lords, with your leave,
An account I will give,
Which deserves to be written in metre

For the rebels, said I,
Have been pretty nigh;
Faith, and almost too nigh for Sir Peter

The devil take 'em their Shot.
Came so fast, and so hot;
And the cowardly dogs stood so stiff, Sirs,

That I put ship about,
And was glad to get out,
Or, they would not have let me a shift, Sir.

With much labor and toil
Unto Sullivan's Isle
I came, swift as Falstaff or Pistol;

But the Yankees, od rat'em,
I could not get at 'em,
They so terribly maul'd my poor Bristol

Bold Clinton by land,
Did quietly stand,
While I made a thundering clatter;

But the channel was deep,
So he only could peep,
And not venture over the water.

Now bold as a Turk
Ensconced to New York.
Where with Clinton and Howe, you may find me.

'Tis the wind in my tail,
And am hoisting my sail
To leave Sullivan's island behind me.

But, my lords do not fear.
For before the next year—
Although a whole island should wreck us

The continent whole,
We will have by my soul;
If the cowardly Yankee will let us.