“It was a sad thing that he did not show them his passport.”
“It was; but we must look at the thing fairly. Had an American officer acted the same part towards the English, we should hardly have liked him to escape. The Major was a noble-minded man, for though taken himself, he did all in his power to save the life of the traitor, Arnold. The moment he knew that Arnold was safe he acknowledged himself to be a British officer.”
“Ay! he was a courageous officer.”
“When in prison he never complained; though he spoke tenderly of his mother and sisters, and recommended them to the kindness of Sir Henry Clinton, the British general. He had requested to be shot, that death being in accordance with military habits, but this was not granted. When at the place of execution he bandaged his eyes with a white pocket-handkerchief himself, and with his own hands placed the fatal cord round his neck. ‘I beg you not to forget,’ said he, ‘that I submit myself to my fate like a man of courage.’”
“There are very terrible things in war. We wish Major André had not been hung.”
“Almost everybody has heard of the bravery of Sir Thomas Picton, who used to call the troops under his command, his ‘fighting rascals.’ General Picton, uncle to Sir Thomas, was Captain of the 12th grenadiers at the battle of Minden, in America, and when Sir Henry Clinton left the regiment for the 7th dragoons, in 1779, Picton was appointed in his place, by the express command of His Majesty George III. On the first levee held afterwards, the general attended to return thanks and kiss hands on the occasion, when the King said to him, ‘It is Captain Picton, of the 12th grenadiers, at the battle of Minden, that you have to thank for your regiment.’”
“Oh! oh! It was for his own bravery, then, that he was promoted.”
“Among the names of intrepid British officers, that of General Sir John Moore must not be passed by. He is remembered by many with a melancholy interest. When he was a colonel he commanded the party that stormed and took Fort Mozello, in the Isle of Corsica.”
“Corsica! That is the very place where Buonaparte was born!”
“It is. Well, daybreak was the time fixed upon for the attack, and as no alarm might be given to the garrison, the soldiers were ordered not to load: the place was, in short, to be taken at the point of the bayonet. Colonel Moore, with his intrepid companions, had not proceeded more than half-way when the enemy discovered their danger, and discharged a volley of grape-shot. On pressed the colonel at the head of his men, passing by the wounded, dying, and dead, and was entering the walls, when a bombshell bursting, struck him to the ground. Bleeding as he was profusely, he recovered himself, pressed on, and, in spite of the most obstinate resistance, compelled the enemy to surrender. Nothing but consummate skill and determined bravery could have successfully stormed such a fortress, well-provided as it was with stores, garrisoned by some of the best troops of France, and commanded by an able general. When General Stewart, who had dismounted from his horse to mount the breach, found the place in possession of the troops, he flung himself into the arms of Colonel Moore, the soldiers shouting at the time, and throwing up their hats for joy.”