About 3 o'clock in the morning, I was told he could not hold out much longer; I had desired to be informed of the near approach of this sad crisis, and I then wrapped up my children in their clothes, and went with them into the room below. About 8 o'clock in the morning, he died.

After he was laid out, and his corpse wrapped up in a sheet, we came again into the room, and had this sorrowful sight before us the whole day; and, to add to the melancholy scene, almost every moment some officer of my acquaintance was brought in wounded. The cannonade commenced again; a retreat was spoken of, but not the smallest motion was made towards it. About 4 o'clock in the afternoon, I saw the house, which had just been built for me, in flames, and the enemy was now not far off. We knew that General Burgoyne would not refuse the last request of General Fraser, though, by his acceding to it, an unnecessary delay was occasioned, by which the inconvenience of the army was much increased.

At six o'clock, the corpse was brought out, and we saw all the generals attend it to the mountain; the chaplain performed the funeral service, rendered unusually solemn and awful from its being accompanied by constant peals from the enemy's artillery. Many cannon balls flew close by me, but I had my eyes directed towards the mountain, where my husband was standing, amidst the fire of the enemy, and, of course, I could not think of my own danger.

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LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIXTH.

The Horrors of War.

As soon as the funeral service was finished, and the grave of General Fraser was closed, an order was issued, that the army should retreat. My calash,

says the Baroness of Reidesel, was prepared, but I would not consent to go before the troops. Major Harnage, although suffering from his wounds, crept from his bed, as he did not wish to remain in the hospital, which was left with a flag of truce. When Gen

eral Reidesel saw me in the midst of danger, he ordered my woman and children to be brought into the calash, and intimated to me to depart without delay.

I still prayed to remain, but my husband, knowing my weak side, said, "Well, then, your children must go, that at least they may be safe from danger." I then agreed to enter the calash with them, and we set off at 8 o'clock. The retreat was ordered to be conducted with the greatest silence; many fires were lighted, and several tents left standing. We travelled continually during the night, and the day following.

About evening, we arrived at Saratoga; my dress was wet through and through with rain, and in that state I had to remain the whole night, having no place to change it; I, however, got close to a large fire, and, at last, lay down on some straw. At this moment, General Phillips came up to me, and I asked him why we had not continued our retreat, as my husband had promised to cover it, and bring the army through?

Poor, dear woman," said he, "I wonder how, drenched as you are, you have the courage still to persevere, and venture further in this kind of weather. I wish, " continued he, "you was our commanding general; General Burgoyne is tired, and means to halt here to-night, and give us our supper.'

On the morning of the 7th, at 10 o'clock, General Burgoyne ordered the retreat to be continued, and caused the handsome houses and mills of General Schuyler to be burnt; we marched, however, but a short distance, and then halted. The greatest misery, at this time, prevailed in the army; and more than thirty officers came to me, for whom tea and coffee was prepared, and I shared with them all my provi

sions, with which my calash was in general well supplied.

About two o'clock in the afternoon, we again heard a firing of cannon and small arms; instantly, all was alarm, and every thing in motion. My husband told me to go to a house not far off. I immediately seated myself in my calash, with my children, and drove off; but scarcely had we reached it, before I discovered five or six armed men on the other side of the Hudson. Instinctively, I threw my children down in the calash, and then concealed myself with them. At that moment, the fellows fired, and wounded an already wounded English soldier, who was behind me; poor fellow, I pitied him exceedingly, but, at that moment, had no means or power to relieve him.

A terrible cannonading was commenced by the enemy, which was directed against the house in which I sought to obtain shelter for myself and children, under the mistaken idea that all the generals were in it; alas! it contained nothing but the wounded, and women. We were, at last, obliged to resort to the cellar for refuge; and in one corner of this, I remained the whole day, my children sleeping on the earth, with their heads on my lap: and in the same situation I passed a sleepless night. Eleven cannon-balls passed through the house, and we could distinctly hear them roll away.

One poor soldier, who was lying on a table, for the purpose of having his leg amputated, was struck by a shot, which carried away his other. His comrades had left him; and, when we went to his assistance, we found him in a corner of the room, into which he had crept, more dead than alive, scarcely breathing. My reflections on the danger to which my husband was exposed, now agonized me exceedingly; and the thoughts of my children, and the necessity of struggling for their preservation, alone supported me.

LESSON ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SEVENTH.

American Magnanimity.

On the 17th of October, the convention was completed. General Burgoyne, and the other generals, waited on the American general (Gates;) the troops laid down their arms, and gave themselves up prisoners of war. My husband, says the baroness, sent a message to me, to come over to him with my children. I seated myself once more in my dear calash, and then rode through the American camp.

As I passed, I observed (and this was a great consolation to me) that no one eyed me with looks of resentment, but that they all greeted us, and even showed compassion in their countenances, at the sight of a woman with small children. I was, I confess, afraid to go over to the enemy, as it was quite a new situation to me. When I drew near the tents, a handsome man approached and met me; took my children from the calash, and kissed them, which affected me almost to tears. "You tremble," said he, "be not afraid." addressing himself to me; I answered, you seem so kind and tender to my children, it inspires me with courage.

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He now led me to the tent of General Gates, where I found Generals Burgoyne and Phillips, who were on a friendly footing with the former. Burgoyne said to me, "Never mind, your sorrows have now an end." I answered him, that I should be reprehensible to have any cares, as he had none; and I was pleased to see him on such a friendly footing with General Gates. All the generals remained to dine with General Gates.

The same gentleman who received me so kindly, now came and said to me, "You will be very much embarrassed to eat with all these gentlemen; come, with your children, to my tent, where I will prepare

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for you a frugal meal, and give it with a free will." I said, "You are certainly a husband and a father, you have shown me so much kindness." I now found that he was General Schuyler. He treated me with excellent smoked tongue, beef steaks, potatoes, and good bread and butter! Never could I have wished to eat a better dinner. I was content. I saw all around me were so likewise; and, what was better than all, my husband was out of danger.

When we had dined, he told me his residence was at Albany, and that General Burgoyne intended to honor him as his guest, and invited myself and children to do so likewise. I asked my husband how I should act; he told me to accept the invitation. As it was two days' journey there, he advised me to go to a place which was about three hours' ride distant. General Schuyler had the politeness to send with me a French officer, a very agreeable man, who commanded the reconnoitring party of which I have before spoken; and when he had escorted me to the house where I was to remain, he turned back again.

Some days after this, we arrived at Albany, where we so often wished ourselves; but we did not enter it as we expected we should-victors! We were received by the good General Schuyler, his wife and daughters, not as enemies but kind friends; and they treated us with the most marked attention and politeness; as they did General Burgoyne, who had caused General Schuyler's beautifully finished house to be burnt: in fact, they behaved like persons of exalted minds, who determined to bury all recollection of their own injuries in the contemplation of our misfortunes. General Burgoyne was struck with General Schuyler's generosity, and said to him, "You show me much kindness, although I have done you much injury." "That was the fate of war," replied the brave man, "let us say no more about it."