Page:History of the United States of America, Spencer, v1.djvu/468

436 Knowlton to select a suitable man for the enterprise. Knowlton called together his officers, and stated to them the wish of the general. The appeal was responded to by Nathan Hale, a native of Connecticut, educated at Yale College, an excellent scholar, winning in his manners, possessing a fine taste, and animated above all with the most ardent enthusiasm in his country's cause. After the battle of Lexington, he had obtained a commission in the army, and had already given excellent promise as an officer. Contrary to the remonstrances and forebodings of his friends, he determined to assume the perilous mission. About the middle of September, he crossed over to Long Island, passed through the camp of the enemy, and obtained the necessary information; but just as he was endeavoring to return, he was apprehended and sent to Sir William Howe. Avowing his design without scruple, Hale was convicted as a spy, September 21st, and was ordered to be hung the next morning. Cunningham, the provost marshal, treated Hale with brutality and harshness. The attendance of a clergyman and even the use of the Bible were denied the unhappy captive, and his last affectionate letters to his mother and sister were destroyed. For this last piece of cruelty the provost marshal assigned a reason, which ought rather to have excited his admiration than called forth his savage bitterness: "He would not have," he said, "the rebels to know, that they had a man in their army who could die with so much firmness." Unknown and unfriended, young Hale met his ignominious fate with unflinching courage. His last words were: "I only regret that I have but one life to lose for niy country."

It soon became evident what plan General Howe had formed. He did not think it well to bombard New York, which contained a great number of adherents, and would be desirable as quarters for his army. Instead of this, sending several ships up the North and East rivers, the fire from which swept entirely across the island, he began, under cover of it, to land his troops, on the 15th, at Kip's Bay about three miles above the city. Works had been thrown up on the spot, sufficient at least to maintain a resistance till further succor could arrive; but no sooner did the English set foot on shore, than the troops posted in them were seized with a panic, broke, and fled, communicating their terror to two Connecticut brigades, Parsons' and Fellows', who on the first alarm of a landing had been dispatched to their support.

Just at this critical moment, Washington rode rapidly forward to the lines. Equally astonished and mortified at the shameful disorder and confusion which met his eye, he endeavored to rally the terrified militia; but in vain. Panic-stricken, the very shadow of an enemy hastened their ignominious flight. In a transport of indignation and rage, Washington dashed his hat upon the ground, and exclaimed, "Are