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THE BATTLE OF MONMOUTH:

OR THE FAIR QUAKER.

A TALE OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.

FOUNDED ON FACT.

PART I.

And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal, afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star.'

Childe Harold.

It is well known to all who are acquainted with the history of our revolution, that the province of New Jersey was long in possession of the British and Hessian troops, and suffered more from their depredations than either of the colonies, as they were termed. It was also the scene of several of the most sanguinary conflicts between the English and American armies. Witness the battles of Trenton and Princeton, in which, notwithstanding the former were vastly superior in point of numbers, discipline, and organization, they

met with a resistance from the raw and suffering continental troops, as effective as it was unexpected. They gave a character to our arms, and probably decided the issue of the war. At all events they taught the enemy to acknowledge with what power the sword is wielded when drawn in the glorious cause of liberty.

On the morning of the eighteenth of June, 1778, which ushered in a day of the most intense heat within the recollection of the oldest inhabitant of Jersey, and that on which the battle of Monmouth was fought, General Sir Henry Clinton, commander of the British forces in that quarter, who had possessed himself of the strongest position in the country, that of the 'rising gound about the court house in the town of Freehold, desirous of learning the situation of the American army which was close on his rear, despatched his young favorite, the gallant William Henry Luttrell, Lieutenant of the Fortyseventh Regiment, with a small party, to ascertain, if possible, the movements of the Rebels.

The sun was just gilding the heights of the Neversink mountains with its first ray, and the dewdrops were beginning to glitter on the foliage of the spreading maple trees with which this delightful spot abounds, when Luttrell set out on his mission. From a rising ground about two miles from the American encampment, he could discover, with the aid of a telescope, that the continental troops were performing their evolutions, and could see the points of their bayonets as they sparkled in the morning sunbeams. Pleased to be able to give this information, he turned with great

glee to his companions in arms, congratulated them upon the circumstance, and was just spurring his horse in the direction of Freehold, when he was suddenly surprised and nearly surrounded by a party of Jersey militia, headed by the brave Captain Morgan, who had been sent by General Washington to reconnoitre the position of the British troops. Lieutenant Luttrell fought most valiantly and managed to cut his way through them, keeping up a retreating fire till within sight of the heights of Monmouth, where General Clinton was stationed. The Americans then abandoned the pursuit, after having taken two of his party, and wounded several others.

Luttrell himself received a severe thrust in his breast from the bayonet of Captain Morgan, which inflicted a deep, but not mortal wound. Though faint from loss of blood, this gallant young officer made his way to headquarters and informed General Clinton that, from the observation he had been able to make, it was evidently the intention of the American Commander in Chief to bring them to an immediate action.

His Lordship, feeling assured that the continental troops would fight so long as they had a drop of blood left, ordered every thing to be in readiness to meet them. As a preparatory step, the sick and wounded were removed to Shrewsbury, a post town on the Jersey side, from which they could easily be embarked for New York. Lieutenant Luttrell's wound, though not a dangerous one, was attended with much pain, and being so enfeebled as to be unfit for service on the present occasion, he was, by Sir Henry's orders, con

veyed to a farm house about four miles from the expected scene of action, and strongly recommended to the care of the lady to whom it belonged, and who was personally known to the commander.

Mary Woodford was a widow and a pious member of the Society of Friends, much esteemed throughout the neighbourhood for her prudence, piety, and benevolence. With her Luttrell remained several days in a state of great weakness, in consequence of the loss of blood from his wound, and the effects of his journey from Freehold. He had been carried into the house in a swoon, and was faithfully nursed by his kind hostess, assisted by her only child, the lovely Agnes, and their aged domestic, Rachel, who performed for him all those kind and tender offices peculiar to the gentler sex, and particularly common in that amiable Society, which, by patience, christian temper, and charity, has shown itself in every sense of the word, friendly to the whole human family. Leaving our hero in the hands of these kind nurses, we will return and learn the issue of the battle of Monmouth.

This memorable contest commenced pretty early in the morning, and would probably have been decided in favor of the Americans in the course of the day, had it not been for the equivocal conduct of General Lee, who was sent with an advance corps to harrass the rear of the royal army, but who retreated without making the intended attack, and almost without resisting the enemy by whom he was sorely pressed. The battle was long, tremendous, and undecided, the sufferings of both armies almost unparalleled, many

of the soldiers actually dying from the excessive heat, and from drinking too freely of cold water in attempting to quench their unconquerable thirst. In the early part of the day, the British had the advantage, in consequence of the excellent position of their troops, but in the afternoon victory declared in favor of the Ameri

cans.

Night coming on, General Washington deferred further operations till the ensuing morning, hoping, after a night of rest, to renew the battle with increased energy. Though he had been remarkably active during the day, regardless of personal danger, he passed the night in his cloak in the midst of his soldiers.'

'In the mean time the British general ordered his troops to remove the wounded, and at midnight they withdrew so silently, that General Poor, who had encamped quite near them, was entirely ignorant of their movements.' Thus the American heroes, Washington, Wayne, Greene, and their brave troops, were deprived in some measure of obtaining a more decisive victory by the conduct of General Clinton, who wisely retreated with the royal army, leaving the Americans in quiet possession of the field, lest, by remaining till the next day, he should add to the laurels they had already

won.

Lieutenant Luttrell's servant had been left at Freehold, in charge of the greatest part of his baggage, under the care of General Clinton; but such was the hurry and confusion of their departure, and his igno-. rance of the place of his master's sojourn, that he was

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