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To secure the victory, it was necessary to carry the artillery, and seize the height. This: duty was assigned to Col. Miller, who advanced steadily and gallantly to his object, and carried the height and the cannon. Gen. Ripley brought up the 23d (which had faltered) to his support, and the enemy disappeared from before them. The enemy, rallying his forces, and, as is believed, having received reinforcements, now attempted to drive us from our position, and regain his artillery. Our line was unshaken, and the enemy was repulsed. Two other attempts, having the same object, had the same issue. Geu. Scott was again engaged in repelling the former of those; and the last I saw of him on the field of battle, he was near the head of his column, and giving to its march a direction that would have placed him on the enemy's right. Having been for some time wounded, and being a good deal exhausted by loss of blood, it became my wish to devolve the command on Gen. Scott, and retire from the field: but, on inquiring, I learned that he was disabled by wounds; I therefore kept my post, and had the satisfaction to see the enemy's last effort repulsed."

About the time at which Gen. Brown says he saw Scott for the last time, Gen. Scott had, at the head of his column, twice charged the enemy. He had, through the whole action, exposed his person in the most dauntless manner. He was finally disabled by a wound from a musket ball through his right shoulder, which he received about half past ten, just before the final close of the action. He had been wounded two hours before, in the left side, had lost two horses killed, under him, and his aid, Lieut. Worth, and his brigade major, Smith, had both been wounded by his side. The total loss of his brigade was 490 in killed and wounded out of 920, including in this number more than thirty of ficers.

During this engagement the moon shone bright and clear, but for more than two hours the hostile lines were within twenty yards of each other, and so frequently intermingled, that officers would often order an enemy's platoon.

Such was the battle of Bridgewater, as it is called. But why of Bridgewater? It was fought near the mighty cataract of Niagara, and within the sound of its thunders: Let it, then, be called the battle of Niagara, for it is worthy of that name.

This battle was, in proportion to the numbers engaged, the most sanguinary, and decidedly the best fought, of any action which ever took place on the American continent, "We had no such fighting in our war," has one of the bravest soldiers of the revolution

often said to the writer of this article. The repeated charges and actual contest with the bayonet, are alone sufficient to render this battle remarkable. The actual fight with the bayonet is, in fact, a thing of very rare occurrence. We have heard, on good authority, that Gen. Moreau has said, that he never saw it to any extent more than twice-one side or the other almost always breaking before the bayonets crossed. Some of the captive officers of the enemy have declared, that there our troops exhibited, not only the most undaunted bravery, but a proficiency in tactics and military skill which would have done honour to veterans. In particular, the charge of Col. Miller has been represented by one of these gentlemen, who had served in Spain, as having surpassed any thing of the kind he ever saw, except the storming of St. See bastians.

This is neither the occasion, nor the place, to expatiate at large on the gallant bearing of those who fought, and those who fell, on that signal day. Yet, in drawing up this hasty sketch of the mili tary life of Gen. Scott, it was with pleasure that we have sometimes turned aside from the exploits of our hero, to catch a hasty glance at those of his brave companions in arms. Feeble and worthless as this tribute may be, we are yet proud to contribute our mite, to pay to patriotism and valour the debt the nation owes: glory was the prize for which they fought, and their country must bestow it.

On the very day in which this action took place, by a singular coincidence, Brig. Gen. Scott was appointed, by the president, a major general by brevet. His wounds, which are still open, were for some time exceedingly painful and dangerous, and obliged him to retire for a time from active service. As soon as he was convales cent, he was appointed to the command of the 10th military district, where he is now stationed. Beside his military rank, he has received every testimonial of respect and gratitude which his country could bestow; among these are a vote of thanks, and a medal, from Congress; a sword presented by the citizens of his na

tive place, Petersburg; a sword and vote of thanks from the Legislature of Virginia; and his name has been given to a new county of that state. In addition to these civil honours, he has lately received a literary one from Princeton College, which was conferred in a manner equally flattering to himself, and honourable to the institution.

At the late commencement of that college, held in September last, whilst the customary collegiate exercises were performing, the trustees were accidentally informed that Gen. Scott had that moment alighted at the opposite tavern, on his way to Baltimore. It was instantly proposed to invite him to the commencement; a deputation of the trustees was accordingly sent over, who soon returned with the general. He was respectfully received by the trus tees, and seated among them on the stage; the audience expressed the strongest symptoms of a disposition to break forth into tumultuous applause, which was with difficulty restrained, by a sense of the decorum due to the place and the occasion. The valedictory orator now ascended the stage; it happened that the subject of his oration was the character of a patriotic and heroic soldier, in which he had introduced an apostrophe to an imaginary personage, whom he depicted as a bright example of military virtue. With admirable presence of mind, and great elegance of manner, the young orator suddenly turned and addressed this to Scott.

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The effect was electrical; bursts of long, reiterated, and unrestrainable applause, broke forth on all sides. Even grave and learned divines, men whose studies and habits of mind were little in unison with feelings of this nature, were hurried away and overcome by the animating and kindling sympathy which surrounded them. With some difficulty the tumult of applause was hushed, and the president rose to confer the doctorates in law and divinity, and other honorary degrees.

In the mean while, one of the trustees had proposed to the rest that an honorary degree should be conferred on their illustrious visitant. It was asked whether Gen. Scott's literary acquirements were such as to render this compliment appropriate. A gentleman from Virginia, to whom he was personally known, replied, (as is the fact,) that beside possessing the general information of a well

educated man, he was remarkable for his accurate and extensive acquaintance with English literature. The proposal was instantly assented to, and communicated to the president, who concluded the list of literary honours, by announcing that the honorary degree of Master of Arts was conferred upon Maj. Gen. Winfield Scott. It is unnecessary to add that the building again rang with the enthusiastic applause of the audience. This compliment, so spontaneous, so appropriate, so well-timed, was worthy of a college which can boast of numbering in the long list of her song many of the most brilliant and distinguished men of their country in every walk of public life.

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I imagined that I was in the midst of an immense crowd, whe were eagerly pressing towards a large edifice, situated upon the summit of a lofty hill. Finding it impossible to retreat, I quietly suffered myself to be borne along by the violence of the multitude, till I arrived at what I found, on a nearer survey, to be a temple. On entering it, the first object which attracted my attention was a figure, seated on a throne, and adorned with the ensigns of sovereignty. Her head was encircled by a fillet, which reflected all the colours of the rainbow, and every moment the light tissue of her drapery presented a thousand hues to the eyes of the beholder. But what most surprised me was the facility with which she changed not only the form and colours of her robes, but even their texture. Af one moment she was arrayed in the light drapery of a city belle; at another, in the coarse habiliments of a jus tice beauty. Now she assumed the dress and inanner of a seclud ed student; and now appeared in all the magnificence of a cour

tier. Her waist was encircled with a zone studded with the wings of a butterfly; in her left hand she held a mirror, and with her right she waved a sceptre of iron.

One step lower, upon her right hand, sat a person whose sole occupation appeared to be to pour out a liquid into a golden cup, which ever and anon he presented to the lips of his sovereign. The appearance of this personage was not less singular than that of her to whom he was ministering. His form was shrouded by a veil of splendid whiteness, but although at first glance it dazzled the eyes of those who ventured to behold it, yet it could not conceal from the penetrating observer the deformity it was intended to cover.

Struck with amazement at this scene, and at beholding the innumerable crowds which bent the knee to this capricious and evervarying sovereign, I could not refrain from asking some explanation from a person whose dark and animated eye appeared to be the index of intelligence. The stranger readily complied with my request, and quickly glancing his eye over the crowd as he spoke, "You behold," said he, "a motley collection from every nation in the world, assembled to proclaim their obedience to the empire of Vanity. She is the offspring of Pride and Folly, and has inherited the arrogance of the one and the weakness of the other. She possesses an unbounded sway over mankind, and influences their conduct in almost every pursuit in which they engage. But the constant state of imbecility in which she is kept by drinking the intoxicating draught which is presented by her attendant, renders almost all her measures injurious to her subjects; and there are few indeed who do not suffer want and wretchedness in consequence of their being under the dominion of Vanity." And who, said I, is this attendant? "His name," replied my informer, "is Flattery. He is the prime minister of Vanity, and though he may appear to your eyes to be perfect deformity, yet so little is the penetration of his sovereign, that to her he appears beautiful as an inhabitant of the heavens."

He had scarcely spoken these words, when a confused noise was heard at the entrance of the Temple, and the cry of "Justice" resounded from every quarter. At the sound, the cup trembled

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