Having thus far given you a hasty and imperfect sketch of the most remarkable objects which presented themselves to us during the first day, and endeavoured to impress on your mind the awful and sublime scenery which we witnessed, I shall in my next give you an account of our future progress, and ultimate arrival on the summit of Mont Blanc.

I am, dear friend,

Yours affectionately,

M. S.

A CANADIAN CAMPAIGN, BY A BRITISH OFFICER.

NO. I.

THIS narrative is intended rather as a private memoir than a relation of the incidents of the war, and professes simply to detail the operations of the right division of the British army in Upper Canada, to which I was myself attached, together with its capture and imprisonment, (in October 1813,) without following in progression the movements of the various other corps. I have not gone, therefore, into a diffuse statement of every date and circumstance, which would necessarily encroach too much on the plan I have laid down, as calculated to afford a source of interest to the general reader, rather than a fund from whence minute information for a diffusive work may be obtained.

Much has been said and written in respect to the American Indians; but I do not recollect having ever met with a detail sufficiently accurate to convey a just idea of the character of these people. As they will occupy a tolerable portion of my attention, and frequently appear under circumstances which might incline the reader to incredulity, I will merely observe, that no one incident will be found committed to these pages, which may not be attested by every officer who served with the right division of the Canadian army. In fact, to that division alone were the more savage of the Indian race attached; and when it is considered, that among the warriors of at least twenty different tribes, there were those who had scarcely ever any previous intercourse with whites, and had seldom approached a fortified place but in open hostility, the savageness of their natures will cease to excite surprise. As it is my intention to give a faithful account of the various cruelties committed during our struggle in Canada-cruelties we had not power to prevent, since perpetrated by an ally over whom we had no control-it may not be improper to advert to the motives for their employment. The Americans have invariably been loud in their condemnation of a measure which alone secured to us the possession of Upper Canada: with how little reason, however, will appear from the well-known fact, that every possible exertion was used, by the agents of their Government, to detach the Indians from our cause. Embracing the system adopted and followed by England for years, presents of all descriptions were issued to the warriors; while, in the council, the most flattering promises were made, the most seducing offers held forth, to induce them to make common cause with the invader. The wary chieftains, however, were not to be tempted by professions of friendship from those whose perfidy had long been proverbial with the Indian race. The bounties of England had been heaped on them with no sparing hand-the faith of the Government had never been violated-no spirit of interest or dominion had chased them from the homes of their forefathers—the calumet of peace had never once been dashed from the lips of those they were called on to abandon; and they remained true to the faith they had pledged, staunch to the cause in which they had embarked. The natives must have been our friends or our foes: had we not employed them the Americans would; and although humanity may deplore the necessity imposed by the very invader himself, of counting them among our allies, and, combating at their side,—the law of self-preservation was our guide, and scrupulous indeed must be the power that would have hesitated at such a moment in its

choice. The act of aggression was not ours-we declared no war against America-we levied no armies to invade her soil, and carry desolation wherever they came-but we availed ourselves of that right, common to every weak power the right of repelling acts of aggression by every means within our reach. Yet though it is admitted that the Indians, while our allies, were in some instances guilty of those atrocities peculiar to every savage people; let it not be supposed, as has been falsely and maliciously stated in a work from the pen of an "Englishwoman," that these atrocities were sanctioned either by the Government or by individuals. On the contrary, every possible mean was tried by the officer commanding at Amherstburg, and Colonel Elliott, superintendent of Indian affairs for that post, to soften down the warlike habits of the natives. The most likely method of preventing the unnecessary effusion of blood was that of offering rewards for prisoners. This, however, except in a very few instances, was found to be ineffectual; for the character and disposition of the savage were not to be tamed by rewards, nor the impression of ages to be removed by such temptations. To have employed force, would have been to have turned their weapons against ourselves; and a body of eight hundred troops, composing the utmost strength of the garrison, could have effected little against three thousand fiery warriors, unused to restraint, and acknowledging no power but their own lawless and unbridled will. The Americans themselves had Indians employed in their service-a few only it is true-but if they had not more, it was not owing to any want of exertion on their parts; and if it is admitted on one hand, that they conducted themselves with more humanity, it cannot at the same time be denied on the other, that the feebleness of their numbers rendered them more immediately subject to the authority of the American commanders, neither can it be disputed, that compulsion alone bound them to the adverse cause, their families having been often detained as hostages to answer for their fidelity. The garrison of Amherstburg, at the commencement of the war, consisted merely of a part of the first battalion of the 41st regiment, and a single company of artillery. Situated at the head of Lake Erie, and forming the key to our relations with the Western Indians, with whom an extensive and lucrative trade in furs had long been established by the North-West Company, this post became an object of additional interest to the enemy. With every opportunity of ascertaining the weakness of its defences, and the almost utter impossibility of its obtaining supplies, the fall of Amherstburg was looked forward to by the Americans, as an event which admitted not of doubt. With this view, the division under General Hull, consisting of three thousand men, had been urged forward with all possible despatch to Detroit, a fort established on the river of the same name, and at a distance of eighteen miles beyond Amherstburg, an attack on which latter place was immediately contemplated. Having collected his boats, and made every other necessary preparation, the American general effected his lauding three miles above Sandwich, a small town nearly opposite to Detroit, and within view of a corps of observation, which, in conformity with its instructions, retired on his approach. Colonel (now Major-General) St. George, Inspecting Fieldofficer, and then commanding at Amherstburg, with that spirit and activity by which he was distinguished throughout the war, made every judicious disposition for his reception. The militia were called out, and, through the exertions of the various agents of their department, a body of one thousand Indians was soon collected. At a distance of eight miles from Amherstburg, and traversing the high road, is the Duck River, which empties itself into that of the Detroit, and is impassable even by cavalry. Over this, and near its mouth, a bridge composed entirely of timber, had been constructed. Seizing at once the advantage of this position, and determining to profit by the delay the enemy must consequently experience, Colonel St. George instantly caused the bridge to be destroyed, and a body of marksmen to be posted among the long grass and weeds with which the banks of the river are covered, for the purpose of annoying such of the enemy as appeared for its reconstruction. The Queen Charlotte, a vessel of twenty guns, was at

the same time anchored at the mouth of the river, for the purpose of keeping them more effectually in check.

The activity with which General Hull commenced his offensive operations, gave every possible indication that they would be followed up with vigour, and that, having once effected his landing, he would afford no time for his enemies to collect the few resources they could command, or place themselves in a posture of defence. The fort of Amherstburg could not have sustained a siege of any consequence. Quadrangular in its form, four bastions alone flanked a dry ditch, offering little obstacle to a determined enemy. This passed, a single line of picketing, perforated with loopholes for musketry, and supported by a slight breast-work, remained to be carried. A prudent commander would, however, have chosen a less uncertain mode of dislodging the garrison. A few shells properly directed would have answered the purpose, since, with the exception of the magazine, all the buildings within were of wood, and covered with pine shingles of such extreme thinness, as would have been found incapable of resisting missiles of far less weight. The disadvantage of awaiting the enemy in this position, Colonel St. George well knew; and consequently preferred giving him battle with the trifling force he had at his disposition. With this view, the garrison received orders to be under arms at a moment's warning, and the approach of the invader was anxiously awaited. Satisfied, however, with having effected his landing, and deriving no other advantage than that of having his troops quartered on his enemy, the American general appeared to have forgotten altogether the object of his mission. Instead of descending the river Detroit in boats, or attempting to throw a bridge across the other river at a point where we had no outpost, he contented himself with despatching workmen, supported by bodies of cavalry and infantry, to repair that already partially destroyed. Kepulsed in every attempt, the daily skirmishes which ensued led to no action of a decisive nature. Each party sustained a trifling loss; the enemy invariably retiring at the approach of evening. In this manner passed the whole of the latter end of July, when suddenly, and to the utter astonishment of the garrison, intelligence was received that the enemy had recrossed the river Detroit, with the whole of his force.

On the 6th of August, information having been conveyed to Colonel St. George, that a body of the enemy was on its march to convoy a quantity of provisions for the use of the garrison of Detroit, Brevet-Major Muir, with a detachment of a hundred and fifty men of the forty-first regiment, and a few companies of militia, received orders to cross the river and occupy Brownstown, a small village on the American shore through which they were expected to pass. On our arrival at this post, we found that their advanced guard had fallen in with, and been defeated by a party of Indians a few hours before, and that the main body had in consequence retired with much precipitation on Detroit.

It was on this occasion that one of those cruel practices, common to the Indian race, fell for the first time beneath the observation of the indignant soldiery. Their horror at the atrocious act was such as might naturally be expected from men, to whose humanity the voice of a suppliant foe had never been used to tender an ineffectual appeal. Among the number of those who had fallen in the morning, was a young Shawanee chief, named Logan, killed by almost the last shot fired from the enemy. Speaking the English language with facility, he was known to many of the officers, with whom his mild and unassuming nature had rendered him a great favourite, and he was sincerely regretted by all. Shortly after our arrival, the body of the warrior was brought in, and placed in a large tent, where it was immediately surrounded by the female relatives. It is customary with the Indians when a man falls in battle, either to fill up the void his decease occasions in the family by the adoption of a prisoner, or to sacrifice one to his shade. While the howling and lamentation of the women were at their height, two Indians suddenly appeared with a captive, who, in his attempt to extricate himself from the woods in which he had been lost during the affair of the

morning, had fallen into their hands. He was a finely proportioned young man, and the air of dejection which clouded his brow, gradually gave way to a more cheerful expression, when, on approaching the encampment, he perceived those from whom he expected protection. Several of the men advanced to meet and converse with him, and the poor fellow had apparently banished all feeling of apprehension for his future fate, when an aunt of the deceased issued from the tent and stole cautiously behind him. She was a tall thin woman, with a fiend-like expression of countenance, and the fires which extreme age had taken from her eye, were for a moment rekindled by the spirit of demoniac vengeance that trembled throughout her frame. Even at the moment when the mind of the prisoner was most lulled into confidence, and without any previous admonition, the heartless woman drew a tomahawk from beneath her mantle, and buried its point in the skull of her victim. Stunned but not felled by the wound, the unhappy man-his whole countenance expressing horror and despair-grasped at the first soldier near him for support; but the blows were repeated so suddenly, and with such violence, that he soon fell panting and convulsive to the earth. Fortunately he was not suffered to linger in his agony. The Indians around instantly despatched and scalped him, stripping the body of its clothes, and committing violations on his person which it would be indecent to detail, and in which the cruel aunt of Logan bore a principal share. The indignation of the men was excessive; but any attempt to interfere, could they even have foreseen the occurrence in time to render interference effectual, would not only have cost them several lives, but produced the most alarming consequences to our cause. Their displeasure was, however, expressed by their murmurs, and the atrocity of the act became the theme of conversation thoughout the camp. At the moment of its perpetration, I had myself approached within a few paces of the group, and became an unwilling spectator of the whole transaction. The wild expression of the sufferer's eye; the supplicating look which spoke through the very distortion of his features; and the agony which seemed to creep throughout his every limb, were such as no time can ever efface from my recollection. It was but the work of a moment, yet, although it has been my melancholy fortune to witness many other scenes of an equally cruel character, I can recall none that affected me in the same degree. Human nature is, perhaps, in some measure to be taxed for this apparent inconsistency, since sad experience has too long taught us, that the horror with which we are inspired at the sight of crime or cruelty will yield to the influence of habit, and that the eye which, in the infancy of its communion with blood, shrank back from the contemplation of atrocity, will eventually dwell with comparative calm on all that is outrageous and disgusting to humanity. Each particular circumstance is present to my mind as though it had been an occurrence of yesterday, and I will venture to believe, that there are few of those who were also involuntary eye-witnesses of a deed they had not the power to prevent, who have not retained an equally melancholy impression of a crime in the perpetration of which the principal agent and instrument was a woman!

On the morning of the 9th the wild and distant cry of our Indian scouts gave us to understand that the enemy were advancing. In the course of ten minutes afterwards they appeared issuing from the wood, bounding like wild deer chased by the huntsman, and uttering that peculiar shout which is known among themselves as the news-cry. From them we ascertained that a column of the enemy, consisting of eight hundred men, cavalry and infantry, were on their march to attack us, but that the difficulty of transporting their guns rendered it improbable they could reach our position before night, although then only at a distance of eight miles. It being instantly decided on to meet them, the detachment was speedily under arms, and on its march for Miguaga, a small village distant about a league. The road along which we advanced was ankle-deep with mud, and the dark forest waving its close branches over our heads, left no egress to the pestilential exhalations arising from the naked and putrid bodies of horses and men, which had been

suffered to lie unburied beneath our feet. No other sound than the measured step of the troops interrupted the solitude of the scene, rendered more imposing by the wild appearance of the warriors, whose bodies, stained and painted in the most frightful manner for the occasion, glided by us with almost noiseless velocity, without order, and without a chief: some painted white, some black, others half black half red, half black half white, all with their hair plastered in such a way as to resemble the bristling quills of the porcupine, with no other covering than a cloth around their loins, yet armed to the teeth with rifles, tomahawks, war-clubs, spears, bows, arrows, and scalping-knives. Uttering no sound, and intent only on reaching the enemy unperceived, they might have passed for the spectres of those wilds, the ruthless demons which War had unchained for the punishment and oppression of man.

Having taken up a position at about a quarter of a mile beyond Miguaga, our dispositions of defence were speedily made, the rustling of the leaves alone breaking on the silence which reigned throughout our line. Following the example of the Indians, we lay reclined on the ground, in order to avoid being perceived until within a few yards of the enemy. At the expiration of an hour the report of a single shot echoed throughout the wood; and the instant afterwards the loud and terrific yells of the Indians, followed by a heavy and desultory fire, apprised us that they were engaged. The action then became general along our line, and continued for half an hour, without producing any material advantage; when, unluckily, a body of Indians that had been detached to a small wood about five hundred yards distant from our right, were taken by the troops for a corps of the enemy endeavouring to turn their flank. In vain we called out to them that they were our Indians. That fire which should have been reserved for their foes, was turned upon their friends, who, falling into the same error, returned it with equal spirit. The fact was, they had been compelled to retire before a superior force, and the movement made by them had given rise to the error of the troops. That order and discipline which would have marked their conduct as a body in a plain, was lost sight of, in a great measure, while fighting independently and singly in a wood, where every man, following the example of the enemy, was compelled to shelter his person behind the trees as he could. Closely pressed in front by an almost invisible foe, and on the point of being taken in the rear, as was falsely imagined, the troops were at length compelled to yield to circumstance and numbers; the Americans suffering us to retire without molestation to our boats, in which we the same evening regained the Fort of Amherstburg.

The

This affair, the first that took place since our rupture with America, cost us Lieutenant Sutherland of the 41st regiment, and about twenty men. loss of the enemy we subsequently found to have been nearly the same, and principally sustained from the fire of the Indians. Here it was that we had first an opportunity of perceiving the extreme disadvantage of opposing regular troops to the enemy in the woods. Accustomed to the use of the rifle from his infancy-dwelling in a measure amid forests with the intricacies of which he is perfectly acquainted, and possessing the advantage of a dress which renders him almost undistinguishable to the eye of an European, the American marksman enters with comparative security into a contest with the English soldier, whose glaring habiliment and accoutrement are objects too conspicuous to be missed, while his utter ignorance of a mode of warfare, in which courage and discipline are of no avail, renders the struggle for mastery even more unequal. The different armies to which the right division was opposed during the war, consisted not of regular and well-disciplined troops, but levies of men taken from the forests of Ohio and Kentucky, scarcely inferior as riflemen to the Indians themselves. Dressed in woollen frocks of a gray colour, and trained to cover their bodies behind the trees from which they fired, without exposing more of their persons than was absolutely necessary for their aim, they afforded us, on more than one occasion, the most convincing proofs that without the assistance of the Indian warriors, the de