time the freedom of the city of New York was presented to him in a gold box having on it the arms of that city, and below, those of the King.[1] Our final intercourse was by letter, when he was besieged in Boston and I felt it needful to remonstrate upon his treatment of prisoners.
So many officers were wounded that, early on the day after the battle, although very weak, it fell to me, having at last been better horsed, to carry orders to the force we had left forty miles in our rear.
With a half-dozen horse I rode on all night in a drizzle of rain, and so all the next day, very melancholy and ready to drop with fatigue. Indeed, I fell down as I dismounted when I rode in to Colonel Dunbar's camp, and was only revived by a little spirits and a good meal.
The whole force which we had left here were more scared, I believe, than those who had been in the battle; for the runaway waggoners told terrible stories, and it was with great difficulty that this division of the army was kept from flying.
The shocking scenes which presented themselves in this march to Dunbar's camp
- ↑ Now in the possession of Lord Rosebery.
