The Liberator

MISCELLANEOUS.

From the London Metropolitan.

A SCENE IN THE LAST WAR.

The war with France being over, Sir Peter Parker took leave of his wife at Bordeaux, and we, with a large convoy, with troops, made sail to the coast of America. We arrived in the Chesapeake at the time that the detestable war of conflagration was at its height. When we entered the Potomac, a large river which empties itself into the Chesapeake, the fertile shores of this beautiful abode presented the sad effects of the war: on each side houses were burning with fearful rapidity, and when night came on, they resembled the signal fires of the Indians, blazing in all the horrors of destruction. The next day our marines accompanied the marines attached to the rest of the squadron in one of these expeditions. We were commanded by Sir G. Cockburn in person, and with him as an amateur, was the late gallant General Ross, who was afterwards killed at Baltimore. Our destination was up a river which runs at the back of St George's Island; and the object was to destroy a factory, which was not only the abode of innocent labor but likewise the resort of some few militia-men guilty of the unnatural sin of protecting their own country. We started in the morning, and having landed about five miles up the river, proceeded along a pretty fair road, flanked on each side by large woods which led to the factory. General Ross directed the movements of our skirmishes, and instructed our sea-general in some of the safeguards of a land army. When we arrived within two hundred yards of the town, Sir Peter gave the word for his division to charge; and at full trot we arrived at the factory. Our approach had been long known; every one but the women and children had deserted the town, and had taken with them most of the implements of their labor; we therefore most valiantly set fire to the unprotected property, notwithstanding the tears and cries of the women; and like a parcel of savages, as we were, we danced round the wreck of ruin. It is now of no use to dive into the reason why this savage mode of warfare was resorted to; it was generally asserted to be merely retaliation in the South, for aggression in the North; in short, as the Americans burnt right and left in Canada, we did them the same compliment in the Chesapeake, thereby following an example which greater barbarians than ourselves have shuddered to commit. Be it as it may, every house which we could by ingenuity vote into the residence of a militia-man was burnt; and, as almost every man in America did belong to the militia, we had abundant opportunities of becoming the most scientific destroyers of all sorts and kinds of property. On our return from the factory, General Ross went on board the Admiral's ship, while Sir G. Cockburn and Sir P. Parker, with a sufficient force, landed on the shore immediately behind St George's Island, and proceeded to surround a dwelling house near the beach. It was 9 o'clock in the evening; the sun had long set, and the moon threw a clear pale light over the landscape. The house was surrounded with fir-trees; and the inhabitants little dreamt, in so calm and beautiful a night, that the destroyer was at hand. All was hushed and quiet, with the exception of the chirping cricket and the ripple of the water as it broke on the beach. Like midnight murderers we cautiously approached the house; the door was open, and we unceremoniously intruded ourselves upon three young ladies, sitting quietly at tea, occupying themselves with their work, and apparently expecting a visit from some persons with whom they were better acquainted. Sir G. Cockburn, Sir Peter Parker and myself entered the room rather suddenly, and a simultaneous scream was our welcome. Sir G. Cockburn had naturally an austere countenance; but Sir Peter Parker, who was the handsomest man in the navy, wore always a winning smile and a cheerful demeanor. The ladies instantly appealed to the latter; but he was a good officer, and knew how to obey as well as command. Sir George asked for the Colonel, their father. He was out, and not expected home. 'He provided arms for some of the militia?' continued Sir George. There seemed a slight acquiescence on the part of the ladies, which was followed by these words—' I am sorry to be guilty of an apparent incivility; but your father has mainly assisted in arming the militia, and I must now do my duty. In ten minutes time I must set fire to this house, therefore use that period in removing your most valuable effects, for at the expiration of those ten minutes I shall give orders to burn the premises.' Any one who knew Sir George would have known that he never deviated from his word, and consequently would have begun to have packed up with all despatch. Not so the young ladies; they threw themselves on their knees, begged, implored, urged, and prayed the Admiral to depart and leave them to their home and their father: 'They never assisted in the war, excepting to succor a wounded enemy.'—'They never urged their father to arm the militia: they were, in fact, unprotected females.'-Five minutes had elapsed; in vain they implored Sir George to forego his intentions. The youngest, a girl about sixteen, and lovely beyond the general beauty of those parts, threw herself at Sir Peter Parker's knees, and prayed him to interfere. The tears started from his eyes in a moment, and I was so bewildered at the affecting scene, that I appeared to see through a thick mist. There stood Sir George. His countenance unchanged and unchangeable; his watch on the table, and his eyes fixed upon it. One girl had seized upon his left arm, which she pressed with her open hands; another stood a kind of Niobe in tears; whilst the third and youngest was on her knees before Sir Peter. His feelings soon overcame his duty, and he had begun a sentence, which the Admiral cut short; the time was expired, and I was desired to order the men to bring the fireballs. Never shall I forget the despair and anguish of that moment. Sir Peter wept like a child, whilst the girl clung to his knees and impeded his retreat: the Admiral walked out with his usual haughty stride, followed by the two eldest girls, who again and again vainly implored him to countermand the order. Sir Peter was scarcely clear of the threshold when the flames of the house threw a light over the before sombre darkness. We retreated from the scene of ruin, leaving the three daughters gazing at the work of desolation, which made the innocent houseless, and the affluent beggars. I will not give an opinion concerning the feelings of Sir George. I am sure he felt as a brave man always feels, when female beauty interferes with his duty. The last struggle to retain his composure when he called out, 'Begin!' was ineffectual; he felt as much as others, but he had more command over his feelings. I know he is a brave man, and therefore am sure he inherits that feeling which is common to that class of men.