Shortly after this brilliant exploit, the peace of Europe was restored; and WC, with the rest of the squadron, repaired to the Garonne, preparatory to our sailing for America, to which station we were bound, in company with many transports, bearing some of the gallant fellows who had fought under the Duke of Wellington in Spain. It was at Bordeaux, that Sir Peter Parker bade adieu to those who formed the happiness of his life. It was a melancholy scene so sad indeed, that a by-stander remarked, that he never would return to England; and said, "I see as it were into futurity: poor Peter will never come back from America."

OUR Voyage across the Atlantic was short and pleasant, and we arrived in the Chesapeake amid that general war of conflagration and devastation, which half ruined the fertile shores of Virginia and Maryland. That this war, or rather the means by which it was carried on, was disgraceful to a civilized nation no man doubts now. Because forsooth some savages, or perhaps men dressed one degree better than savages, commence a system of barbarity and desolation in the north; we, pretending to be the most civilized nation on the face of the earth, must imitate their ravages in the south: because, in Canada, some huts and hovels were burnt; we in the Chesapeake were to burn and destroy some noble mansion, desolate some magnifi.

cent estate, and turn a land of plenty and prosperity into a bleak desert of starvation and misery.

On entering the Potomac, a large river which empties itself into the Chesapeake, the fertile shores of this beautiful country presented the sad effects of the war. On each side houses were burning with fearful rapidity, and, when night came on, they resembled the signal-fires of the Indians, blazing in all the horrors of destruction. The next morning our marines accompanied the marines of the rest of the squadron in one of these expeditions. We were commanded by Sir George Cockburn in person, and with him, as an amateur, was the gallant general Ross, who was afterwards killed at Baltimore. Our destination was up a river which runs at the back of St. George's Island—the object being to destroy a factory, which was not only the abode of innocent labour, but likewise the resort of some few militia-men guilty of the unnatural sin of protecting their own country. We started before day-light; and, having landed about five miles up the river, proceeded along a pretty fair road, flanked on each side by large woods, which led to the factory. General Ross directed the movements of our skirmishers, and instructed our seageneral in some of the movements requisite for the safety of a land army. On arriving within a few hundred yards of our destination, Sir Peter advanced with his division at a double-quick-time pace, and thus at a full trot we entered the village where the factory was placed. Our approach had been long known; fire and fury followed our steps, and prudence had taught the necessity of watchfulness, or destruction or poverty were sure to be at hand. In such a war as this, few slept upon roses-and our path was shunned as religiously as men shun an infected city. As the inhabitants had fled, with the exception of one or two old women, who disregarded us with all the vacancy of imbecility, we were blessed with a beautiful view of a "deserted village," far beyond even the imagination of Goldsmith. The houses were walls; the furniture was elsewhere; the population had flown, and a silence like that of the tomb prevailed. The crackling of the fagots, as the flames caught the factory, disturbed the repose: we most valiantly set fire to unprotected property, and, notwithstanding the imploring looks of the old women, we,

like a parcel of savages as we were, danced round the wreak of ruin. It has been held by many very good and clever men, that, during war, private property should be respected: this is a very great mistake. Every man during war pays something towards the support of it: if this man is ruined, he ceases to contribute, and thus the exchequer is impoverished; ergo, the more you ruin in a war, the more you hurt the nation at large. But some. times, and the American war was a proof of it, the greatest inconsistencies existed for instance, we never were allowed to take cattle without paying for them. A bullock was estimated at five dollars, although it was worth twenty; and sheep had the high price of one dollar attached to them, they being in reality worth six at least. Yet did we burn the house of the man to whom the stock belonged. But supposing, and I have seen it one hundred times, that the farmer refused the money for his stock; why then we drove sheep, bullocks, and geese away, and left the money for the good man to take afterwards-as Quakers leave their taxes, which they have foresworn not to pay. I should like to have explained why we, sharks as we were, swallowed up every little schooner laden with fruit, or with ducks, &c. going to market; and why we were made to pay for the very same articles, if we found them on shore. The hue and cry always was-"Respect private property;" "pay for what you take, but take care to take all you can:" and under this wholesale legislation we burnt and de. stroyed right and left. If by any stretch of argument we could establish the owner of a house, cottage, hut, &c. to be a militia-man, that house we burnt, because we found arms therein; that is to say, we found a duck gun, or a rifle. It so happens, that in America every man must be. long to the militia; and, consequently, every man's house was food for a bonfire. And so well did we act up to the very spirit of our orders, that if the Americans who bounded the shores of Virginia and Maryland do not entail upon their posterities the deepest hatred and the loudest curses upon England and her marauders, why, they must possess more Christian charity than I give them credit for, and be much better calculated for the kingdom of Heaven than for sojourners on this little mountain of mud. The ruin, the desolation, the heartless misery, that we left them to

brood over, will for ever make the citizens of the United States, in spite of the relationship of the countries, hate us with that hatred which no words can allay, or time eradi.

cate.

On our return from the factory, General Ross re-embark. ed-whilst a small party, under a distinguished leader, proceeded to surround a house situated near the beach, immediately behind St. George's Island. It was about nine o'clock in the evening, the sun had long set, the moon threw a pale light over the landscape, and all nature seemed hushed in repose-save when the echo repeated the splash of oars, or distant hum of men; or when the ripple of a wave broke on the shore, and the chirping cricket made its feeble noise. There were some popular trees which flanked an avenue terminating with the dwelling-house, round which the ground was cultivated with much care, indicating the watchful eye of a good farmer. The plan. tations were in better order than usual, and the whole establishment conveyed the idea of rural content and peaceable inhabitants. Little did the inmates dream, at the moment they sat dawn to their evening's repast, that the destroyer was at hand, or that their house was surrounded by armed men. Our advance was so cautious, that even suspicion might have been lulled into a fatal repose. The door stood open, and two officers besides myself entered most unceremoniously-intruding upon the privacy of three young ladies sitting quietly round a tea-table, occupying themselves with their work, and apparently expect. ing a visit from some persons likely to be much more welcome than the present company. A hasty scream of terror and astonishment saluted us on our entrance. were very used to these womanish expressions of terror; for during the time any house was consuming, the former inhabitants would give vent to their feelings in the natural way, reserving their curses until we were out of sight. Our leader was naturally a very austere man; but Sir Peter Parker, who was the handsomest man in the navy, wore always a winning smile and a cheerful demeanour. The ladies instantly made a tender appeal to the latter, but he remained silent: he was a good officer, and had begun to command, after he had learnt to obey. Our chief began the conversation.

We

"Pray, ladies, where is your father?”

"He is out," replied the elder girl, "and we do not expect him home for some time." The very way this answer was expressed, convinced us that the father was rather too near to be pleasant, for either him or his family.

"He is a colonel of militia ?" continued the intruder.

66

Yes," was the reply; "he does belong to the militia.” "And you have arms in the house belonging to other militia-men?" This was strenuously denied.

"He, however," continued the leader, "did provide arms for some of his corps?" There seemed a slight ac. quiescence on the part of the ladies, which was followed by these words, "I am sorry to be guilty of any act which tends to frighten females, but I must do my duty. Your father has mainly assisted in arming the militia; he is him. self a colonel, and consequently an enemy of some rank. and power. In ten minutes' time I shall set fire to this house; therefore use that period in removing your most valuable effects, which shall not be touched by my men. At the expiration of that time, I shall give orders to burn the premises."

Any man who knew the character of our commanding officer, would have known that he never deviated from his word, and consequently would have availed themselves of the limited time, and packed up for a change of residence. Not so the young ladies; they endeavoured, by all the arts of their sex, to turn us from our resolution. Mark Antony lost the world for a tear: our American friends lost their valuable effects by trying the tender appeal on a sailor's heart; they threw themselves on their knees, begged, implored, urged, and once commanded us to depart—to respect their forlorn unprotected situation, and to leave them to their home, their wretchedness, and their tears: "we," they continued, "never assisted in the war, excepting to succour the wounded, and supply the distressed; we never urged our father to arm the militia-men; we are, in fact, poor and forlorn females: do not turn us out in the dead of night to seek another asylum; consider we are women; consider our sex, and reserve your decree until to-morrow." However unfeeling it may appear, yet I am bound to make the remark, that highway robbers or midnight plunderers never wait for to-morrow: " carpe diem," is their