THE ground, on which this very memorable battle was fought, was an open pine barren. The militia were drawn up about two hundred yards in front of the regulars, and the horse some small distance in the rear. Just after day break, the British came in sight; and halting within a quarter of a mile of the militia, began to prepare for battle. The Sun had just risen, as the enemy, with loud shouts, advanced to the charge. The militia, hardly waiting to give them a distant fire, broke and fled for their horses, which were tied at some distance on the wings of the Maryland line. Tarleton's cavalry pushed hard after the fugitives, and, coming up with them just as they had reached their horses, began to cut them down. Unable to bear that sight, Col. Washington, with his corps, dashed on to their rescue. As if certain of victory, Tarleton's men were all scattered in the chase!....Washington's heroes, on the contrary, sensible of the fearful odds against them, advanced close and compact as the Spartan phalanx. Then sudden and terrible the charge was made! Like men fighting, life in hand, all at once they rose high on their stirrups! while in streams of lightning their swords came down, and heads and arms, and caps, and carcasses, distained with spouting gore, rolled fearfully all around. Mournfully from all sides the cries of the wounded were heard, and the hollow groans of the dying.

AGONIZING with rage and grief, Tarleton beheld the flight of his boasted victory, and the slaughter of his bravest troops. He flew to reanimate them. He encouraged--he threatened-he stormed and raved. But all in vain. No time was given to rally; for like the heavy ship under crowded canvas, bursting through the waves, so, strong and resistless, Washington's squadron went on, hewing down and overthrowing every thing in their way. Confounded by such a fatal charge, the British cavalry could not support it; but broke and fled in the utmost precipi-. tation; while, bending forward over their horses, L

and waving their blood-stained swords, the loudshouting Americans pursued. The woods resounded with the noise of their flight.

As when a mammoth suddenly dashes in among a thousand buffaloes, feeding at large on the vast plains of Missouri; all at once the innumerous herd, with wildly rolling eyes, and hideous bellowings, break forth into flight, while, close at their heels, the roaring monster follows. Earth trembles as they fly. Such was the noise in the chase of Tarleton, when the swords of Washington's cavalry pursued his troops from the famous fields of the Cowpens. It was like a peal of thunder, loud roaring at first, but gradually dying on the ear as it rolls away along the distant air.

By this time the British infantry had come up: and, having crossed a little valley, just as they ascended the hill, they found themselves within twenty steps of Howard and his regulars, who received thern with a right soldierly welcome, and, taking good aim, poured in a general and deadly fire. A slaughter so entirely unexpected, threw the enemy into confusion. Seeing this wonderful change in the battle, the militia recovered their spirits, and began to form on the right of the regulars. Morgan waving his sword, instantly rode up to them, and with a voice of thunder roared out," Hurra! my brave fellows, form, form! Old Morgan was never leat in his life...one fire more, my heroes, and the day is our own!" With answering shouts, both regulars and militia then advanced upon the enemy; and, following their fire with the bayonet, instantly decided the conflict. The ground was covered with the dead. The tops of the aged pines shook with the ascending ghosts. With feeble cries and groans, at once they rose, like flocks of snow-white swans when the cold blast strikes them on the lakes of Canada, and sends them on widespread wings, far to the south to seek a happier clime.

WASHINGTON pursued Tarleton 20 miles! and, durin g the race, was often so near him, that he could easily bave killed him with a pistol shot. But having

strictly forbidden his men to fire a pistol that day, he could not resolve to break his own orders. However there was one of his men who broke them. At one time Washington was 30 or 40 yards ahead of his men. Tarleton observing this, suddenly wheeled with a couple of his dragoons to cut him off. Washington, with more courage than prudence perhaps, dashed on, and rising on his stirrups, made a blow at Tarleton, with such force, that it beat down his guard and mutilated one or two of his fingers. In this unprotected state, one of the British dragoons was aiming a stroke which must have killed him. But, the good genii, who guard the name of Wash ington, prevailed: for in that critical moment a mere dwarf of a Frenchman rushed up, and with a pistol ball shivered the arm of the Briton. The other dragoon attempted to wheel off; but was cut down, Tarleton made his escape.

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TARLETON was brave, but not generous. He could not bear to hear another's praise. When some ladies in Charleston were speaking very han ཐབuuབཔ་་ད་ of Washington, he replied with a scornful air, that, "He would be very glad to get a sight of Col. Washington. He had heard much talk of him," he said, "but had never seen him yet,' 99.66 Why, sir," rejoined one of the ladies, "if you had looked behind you at the battle of the Cowpens, you might easily have enjoyed that pleasure."

WHILE in the neighbourhood of Halifax, NorthCarolina, Tarleton dined in a large company. The elegant and witty Mrs. Wiley Jones happened to be of the party. The ladies, who were chiefly whigs, were frequently praising the brave Col. Washington. Tarleton with looks considerably angry, replied, "that he was very much surprised that the Americans should think so highly of Col, Wash"ington; for, from what he could learn, he was quite "an illiterate fellow, and could hardly write his own "That may be very true (replied Mrs.

name.

Jones)" but I believe, sir, you can testify that he "knows how to make his mark." Poor Tarleton looked at his crippled finger, and bit his lips with rage.

General WASHINGTON Continued the war against the British till 1781; when Cornwallis pushed into Virginia, and fortified himself at York-Town. But the eye of Washington was upon him; and with an address, which, the British historians say, was never equalled, he concerted a plan that ended in the total destruction of Cornwallis. He artfully wrote letters to Greene, informing, that, in order to relieve Virginia, he was determined immediately to attack New-York." These letters were so disposed as to fall into the right hands. Clinton took the alarm. But while the British general was in daily expectation of a visit from him, Washington and his army, were now across the Delaware, with full stretch to the south, darkening the day with their clouds of rolling dust. Cornwallis saw that the day of his fall was at hand. He had done all that a brave (would to God we could add, a humane) man could do; but all in vain. On the last day of September, Washington sat down before York, with 100 pieces of heavy artillery. On the 7th of October this dreadful train began to thunder: and the British works sunk before them. Lord Cornwallis, unwilling to expose his army to the destruction of a general assault, agreed on the 17th to surrender. This was justly considered the close of the war; which having been begun with supplication, Washington piously ordered to be finished with thanksgiving.

IN the siege of Yorktown, the behaviour of the Americans was, as usual, generous and noble. The amiable Col. Scammel, adjutant-general of the Ame rican army, and uncommonly beloved by them, was dangerously wounded and taken prisoner by some British dragoons, who barbarously trotted him on before them, three miles, into town, where he presently died of fever and loss of blood. Great was the mourning for Scammel. In a few nights after,