An English officer perceived doctor Warren, and knew him; he borrowed the musket of one of his soldiers, and hit him with a ball, either in the head or in the breast. He fell dead upon the spot. The Americans were apprehensive lest the English, availing themselves of victory, should sally out of the peninsula, and attack their head-quarters at Cambridge. But they contented themselves with taking possession of Bunker's Hill, where they intrenched themselves, in order to guard the entrance of the Neck against any new enterprise on the part of the enemy. The provincials, having the same suspicion, fortified Prospect Hill, which is situated at the mouth of the isthmus, on the side of the main land. But neither the one nor the other were disposed to hazard any new movement; the first, discouraged by the loss of so many men, and the second, by that of the field of battle and the peninsula. The provincials had to regret five pieces of cannon, with a great number of utensils employed in fortifications, and no little camp equipage. General Howe was greatly blamed by some, for having chosen to attack the Americans, by directing his battery in front against the fortifications upon Breed's Hill, and the trench that descended towards the sea, on the part of Mystic river. It was thought, that if he had landed a respectable detachment upon the isthmus of Charlestown, an operation which the assistance of the ships of war and floating batteries would have rendered perfectly easy to him, it would have compelled the Americans to evacuate the peninsula, without the necessity of coming to a sanguinary engagement. They would thus, in effect, have been deprived of all communication with their camp situated without the peninsula; and, on the part of the sea, they could have hoped for no retreat, as it was commanded by the English. In this mode, the desired object would, therefore, have been obtained without the sacrifice of men. Such, it is said, was the plan of general Clinton; but it was rejected, so great was the confidence reposed in the bravery and discipline of the English soldiers, and in the cowardice of the Americans. The first of these opinions was not, in truth, without foundation; but the second was absolutely chimerical, and evinced more of intellectual darkness in the English, than of prudence, and just notions upon the state of things. By this fatal error, the bravery of the Americans was confirmed, the English army debilitated, the spirit of the soldiers abated, and, perhaps, the final event of the whole contest decided. The possession of the peninsula of Charlestown was much less useful than prejudicial to the royalists. Their army was not sufficiently numerous to guard, conveniently, all the posts of the city and of the peninsula. The fatigues of the soldiers multiplied in an ex which was extreme, cessive manner; added to the heat of the season, they generated numerous and severe maladies, which paralyzed the movements of the army, and enfeebled it from day to day. The greater part of the wounds became mortal, from the influence of the climate, and defect of proper food. Thus, besides the honor of having conquered the field of battle, the victors gathered no real fruit from this action; and, if its effects be considered, upon the opinion of other nations, and even of their own, as also upon the force of the army, it was even of serious detriment. In the American camp, on the contrary, provisions of every sort were in abundance, and the troops being accustomed to the climate, the greater part of the wounded were eventually cured; their minds were animated with the new ardor of vengeance, and the blood they had lost exacted a plenary expiation. These dispositions were fortified, not a little, by the firing of Charlestown, which, from a flourishing town, of signal commercial importance, was thus reduced to a heap of ashes and of ruins. The Americans could never turn their eyes in this direction, without a thrill of indignation, and without execrating the European soldiers. But the loss they felt the most sensibly, was that of general Warren. He was one of those men who are more attached to liberty than to existence, but not more ardently the friend of freedom, than foe to avarice and ambition. He was endowed with a solid judgment, a happy genius, and a brilliant eloquence. In all private affairs, his opinion was reputed authority, and in all public councils, a decision. Friends and enemies, equally knowing his fidelity and rectitude in all things, reposed in him a confidence without limits. Opposed to the wicked, without hatred, propitious to the good, without adulation, affable, courteous and humane towards each, he was beloved, with reverence, by all, and respected by envy itself. Though in his person somewhat spare, his figure was peculiarly agreeable. He mourned, at this epoch, the recent loss of a wife, by whom he was tenderly beloved, and whom he cherished with reciprocal affection. In dying so gloriously for his country, on this memorable day, he left several orphans, still in childhood; but a grateful country assumed the care of their education. Thus was lost to the state, and to his family, in so important a crisis, and in the vigor of his days, a man equally qualified to excel in council or in the field. As for ourselves, faithful to the purpose of history, which dispenses praise to the good and blame to the perverse, we have not been willing that this virtuous and valiant American should be deprived, among posterity, of that honorable remembrance so rightfully due to his eminent qualities. The expedition of the English against the peninsula of Charles town, inspired the Americans with a suspicion that they might per haps also attack Roxbury, in order to open a communication with the country. In consequence of this apprehension, they strengthened their fortifications with incessant application, adding new bastions to their lines, and furnishing them copiously with artillery, of which they had obtained a fresh supply. The garrison of Boston, which abounded in munitions of war, kept up a continual fire of its artillery, and particularly of its mortars, to impede the works of the Americans. The latter had a certain number of dead and wounded, and several houses were burnt in Roxbury. The works were nevertheless continued with incredible constancy, and the fortifications were carried to the degree of perfection desired, and adequate to serve for a sufficient defense against the assaults of the enemy. The Bostonians having seen their countrymen driven not only from Breed's Hill, but also from the entire peninsula, and dreading the horrors of a siege, which every thing presaged must be long and rigorous, experienced anew a strong desire to abandon the city and seek refuge in the interior of the province. Accordingly, the selectmen of the city waited on general Gage, entreating him to deliver the requisite passports; and protesting that, according to the accord previously made, all the citizens had deposited their arms in the Town Hall. But the general, desirous of a pretext for his refusal, issued a proclamation, two days subsequent to the affair of Breed's Hill, declaring, that, by various certain ways, it had come to his knowledge, that great quantities of arms were concealed in the interior of houses, and that the inhabitants meditated hostile designs. This, at least, was what the loyalists reported, who, terrified at the valor and animosity the patriots had manifested in this battle, were apprehensive of some fatal accident, and were unwilling to release their hostages. But the truth is, that the greater part had delivered up their arms, though some had concealed the best and the most precious. However, the English general, who kept his word with nobody, would have others to observe the most scrupulous faith. He refused, therefore, for a long time, all permission to depart. But, finally, the scarcity increasing more and more, and all hope of being able to raise the siege becoming illusory, he found himself constrained to grant passes, in order to disburthen himself of useless mouths. He strenuously still persisted in refusing to permit the inhabitants who retired, to remove their furniture and effects. Thus, when compelled by necessity to consent to that which he had no power to prevent, he annexed to it a rigorous condition, the more mexcusable, as it was altogether without utility, and even could |