"A lieutenant, the officer of the day, blindfolded Elliott and led him to the block-house. Brush, when informed of Elliott's arrival and on what errand, doubting his authority, had him arrested and placed in confinement. On reading M'Arthur's letter, however, he learned his mistake; but instead of releasing Elliott at once and complying with Hull's order, he hastily packed up the public property at the Raisin, and with his whole command and his cattle, started for Ohio, leaving orders that Elliott should be kept in confinement until the next day. Elliott was very angry, and sent for Tecumseh to pursue Brush; but it was too late."
"Did M'Arthur do that way too, papa?" asked little Elsie.
"No; when on the evening of the 17th Colonel Elliott came with authority from Brock to receive tokens of the submission of M'Arthur's detachment, the dark eyes of that officer flashed with indignation, then filled with tears of mortification; he thrust his sword into the ground and broke it to pieces, then tore his epaulets from his shoulders. But having in that way relieved his feelings, he became calm and dignified, while in the dim twilight, Cass and their whole detachment were marched into the fort and stacked their arms."
"Oh, how hard it must have been for M'Arthur, and all of them, indeed!" exclaimed Lucilla.
"Were they shut up in jail, papa?" asked Elsie.
"The volunteers and militia with some of the regular officers, not of high rank, were paroled and allowed to go home," replied her father. "Those belonging to Michigan were discharged right there, the Ohioans sent in a vessel to Cleveland, and there relieved from British control. General Hull and the regulars were held as prisoners of war and sent to Montreal."
"But that wasn't the worst for poor General Hull, was it, papa?" said Grace. "The blame he got from the whole country, and being tried for cowardice, condemned to be shot, and all the rest of it, I should think, must have been far worse. Do you think he was really a coward and so very much to blame, papa?"
"No," replied her father; "he was perhaps weak, but neither wicked nor cowardly; he was very cautious, prudent, and anxious to save the women, children, and aged men in the fort from falling into the hands of the bloodthirsty, tomahawking, scalping savages. Had he known of the armistice and that provisions and ammunition were coming, and had Dearborn and the Secretary of War done their duty, the result might have been very different. As it was, he was made the scapegoat for all."
"Poor man! I feel sorry for him," sighed Grace.
"As I do," said her father. "I have no doubt he did what he believed to be his duty as a humane and Christian man. In parting at Detroit with one of his aids he said to him, 'God bless you, my young friend! You return to your family without a stain; as for myself, I have sacrificed a reputation dearer to me than life, but I have saved the inhabitants of Detroit, and my heart approves the act.' In his despatch to the Secretary of War he generously said, 'I well know the responsibility of the measure, and take the whole of it on myself.' And after alluding to M'Arthur, Finley, Miller, and Cass in commendatory terms, he adds, 'If aught has taken place during the campaign which is honorable to the army, these officers are entitled to a large share of it. If the last act should be disapproved, no part of the censure belongs to them.'"