Brown takes command of the army at Niagara — Crosses the river into Canada — Battle of Chippewa — Brilliant charge of the Americans — Desperate battle of Niagara — Conduct of Ripley — The army ordered to Fort Erie — General Gaines takes command.

July 3.

On the same day the expedition to Mackinaw sailed from Detroit, the army which had been concentrated at Buffalo during the winter, crossed the Niagara, in its third campaign against Canada. Brown, who had been made Brigadier-General for his gallant conduct at Sackett's Harbor, was afterward promoted to the rank of Major-General and given the command of the army destined to act on the Niagara frontier. Two regular brigades, commanded by Scott and Ripley, and a brigade of volunteers and militia, with a few Indians, under General Porter, composed his force. He was directed to carry out that portion of the Secretary's plan which looked to the possession and fortification of Burlington Heights, previous to a descent on Kingston and Montreal. First, he was to seize Fort Erie, risk a combat with the enemy at Chippewa, menace Fort George, and then, if Chauncey's fleet could co-operate with him, advance rapidly on Burlington.

The two regular brigades had been subjected for three months to a new and most rigid discipline. The system of tactics hitherto in use, had been handed down from the Revolution, and was not, therefore, adapted to the improved mode of warfare. Scott, here, for the first time, introduced the French system. He drilled the officers, and they, in turn, the men. So severe and constant was this discipline, that, in the short space of three months, these brigades became intelligent, steady, and invincible as veterans.

July 3.

The preparations being completed, the army crossed the Niagara river, and took Fort Erie without a struggle. The main British army, under General Riall, lay at Chippewa, towards which Scott pressed, heading the advance, with his brigade, chasing before him for sixteen miles, a detachment commanded by the Marquis of Tweesdale, who said he could not account for the ardor of the pursuit until he remembered it was the 4th of July, our great anniversary. At dark the Marquis crossed the Chippewa, behind which lay the British army. This river enters the Niagara nearly at right angles. Two miles farther up, Street's Creek joins the Niagara also, and behind it Gen. Brown drew up the American forces. Those two miles of interval between the streams was an open plain, skirted on one side by the Niagara river and on the other by a forest.

In the morning Gen. Brown resolved to advance and attack the British in their position. The latter had determined on a similar movement against the Americans, and unbeknown to each other, the one prepared to cross the bridge of Chippewa, and the other that of Street's Creek.

The battle commenced in the woods on the left, and an irregular fight was kept up for a long time between Porter's brigade and the Canadian militia stationed there. The latter were at length driven back to the Chippewa, when General Riall advanced to their support. Before this formidable array, the American militia, notwithstanding the noble efforts of General Porter to steady their courage, broke and fled. General Brown immediately hastened to the scene, merely saying to Scott as he passed on, "The enemy is advancing, you will have a fight." The latter, ignorant of the forward movement of Riall, had just put his brigade in marching order to cross the creek for a drill on the level plain beyond. But as the head of the column reached the bank, he saw the British army drawn up in beautiful array in the open field, on the farther side, while a battery of nine pieces stood in point blank range of the bridge over which he was to cross. Swiftly yet beautifully the corps of Scott swept over the bridge and deployed under the steady fire of the battery. The first and second battalions under Majors Leavenworth and McNeil, took position in front of the left and centre of the enemy, while the third, under Jessup, obliqued to the left to attack their right, stationed in the woods, and which threatened to outflank the American line. It was a bright, hot July afternoon, the dusty plain presented no obstacle behind which either party could find shelter, and the march of the steady battalions over its surface led on by bands of music, playing national airs, presented one of those stirring scenes which make man forget the carnage that is to follow. The heavy monotonous thunder of Niagara rolled on over the discharges of artillery, while its clouds of spray rising from the strife of waters, and glittering in the sunbeams, contrasted strangely with the sulphurous clouds that heaved heavenward from the conflict of men beneath.

Both armies halting, firing, and advancing in turn, continued to approach until they stood within eighty yards of each other. Scott who had been manoeuvering to get the two battalions of Leavenworth and M'Neil in an oblique position to the British line, at length succeeded, the two farther extremities being nearest the enemy. Thus the American army stood like an obtuse triangle of which the British line formed the base. While in this position, Scott, wishing to pass from one extremity to the other and being in too great a hurry to go back of the lines around the triangle, cut directly across, taking the cross fire of both armies, as he spurred in a fierce gallop through the smoke. A loud cheer rolled along the American line as they saw this daring act of their commander. Riding up to Towson's battery, he cried out, "a little more to the left, captain, the enemy is there." This gallant officer was standing amid his guns, enveloped in smoke, and had not observed that the British had advanced so far that his fire fell behind them. Instantly discovering his mistake, he changed the direction of his two remaining pieces and poured a raking, destructive fire through the enemy's ranks, blowing up an ammunition wagon, which spread destruction on every side. At this critical moment, Scott rode up to M'Neil's battalion, his face blazing with excitement, and shouted, "The enemy say that we are good at long shot but cannot stand the cold iron. I call upon the Eleventh instantly to give the lie to that slander—Charge."

Just as the order "charge," escaped his lips, came that destructive fire from Towson's battery. The thunder of those guns at that critical moment, was to Scott's young and excited heart like the shout of victory, and rising in his stirrups and swinging his sword aloft, he cried, "Charge, charge the rascals." With a high and ringing cheer, that gallant battalion moved with leveled bayonets on the foe. Taking the close and deadly volleys without shrinking—never for a moment losing its firm formation, it struck the British line obliquely, crumbling it to pieces, as it swept on and making awful havoc in its passage.

Leavenworth did the same on the right with like success, while Jessup in the woods, ignorant how the battle was going in the plain, but finding himself outflanked, ordered his troops "to support arms and advance." They cheerfully obeyed and in the face of a most deadly fire charged home on the enemy, and obtaining a better position poured in their volleys with tremendous effect. From the moment these charges commenced, till the enemy fled, the field presented a frightful spectacle. The two armies were in such close proximity, and the volleys were so incessant and destructive, and the uproar so terrific that orders could no longer be heard. But through his two aids Lieutenants Worth and Watts, who galloped to and fro, and by their presence and gestures transmitted his orders in the midst of the hottest fire, Scott caused every movement to be executed with precision, and not an error was committed from first to last. The enemy fled over the Chippewa, tore up the bridge and retired to his encampment.

The sun went down in blood and the loud voice of Niagara which had been drowned in the roar of battle, sounded on as before, chaunting a requiem for the gallant dead, while the moans of the wounded loaded the air of the calm summer evening.

Nearly eight hundred killed and wounded, had been stretched on the earth in that short battle, out of some four thousand, or one-fifth of all engaged.[4] A bloodier battle, considering the numbers, was scarce ever fought. The British having been taught to believe that the American troops would give way in an open fight, and that the resort to the bayonet was always the signal of victory to them, could not be made to yield, until they were literally crushed under the headlong charge of the Americans.

Gen. Brown, when he found that Scott had the whole British army on his hands, hurried back to bring up Ripley's brigade; but Scott's evolutions and advance had been so rapid, and his blow so sudden and deadly, that the field was swept before he could arrive.

M'Neil's battalion had not a recruit in it, and Scott knew when he called on them to give the lie to the slander, that American troops could not stand the cold steel, that they would do it though every man perished in his footsteps.

Maj. Leavenworth's battalion, however, embraced a few volunteers, and among them a company of backwoodsmen, who joined the army at Buffalo a few days before it was to cross the Niagara.

An incident illustrating their character, was told the writer's father by Maj. Gen. Leavenworth himself. Although a battle was expected in a few days, the Major resolved in the mean time to drill these men. Having ordered them out for that purpose, he endeavored to apply the manual; but to his surprise, found that they were ignorant of the most common terms familiar even to untrained militia. While thus puzzled with their awkwardness, Scott rode on the field, and in a sharp voice asked Maj. Leavenworth if he could not manage those soldiers better. The Major lifting his chapeau to the General, replied, that he wished the General would try them himself. The latter rode forward and issued his commands—but the backwoodsmen instead of obeying him, were ignorant even of the military terms he used. After a few moments' trial, he saw it was a hopeless task, and touching his chapeau in return to Leavenworth, said, "Major, I leave you your men," and rode off the field. The latter, finding that all attempts at drill during the short interval that must elapse before a battle occurred, would be useless, ordered them to their quarters. On the day of the battle he placed them at one extremity of the line, where he thought they would interfere the least with the manoeuvres of the rest of the battalion. He said that during the engagement, this company occurred to him, and he rode the whole length of his line to see what they were about. They were where he had placed them, captain and all, obeying no orders, except those to advance. Their ranks were open and out of all line; but the soldiers were cool and collected as veterans. They had thrown away their hats and coats, and besmeared with powder and smoke were loading and firing, each for himself. They paid no attention to the order to fire, for the idea of "shooting" till they had good aim was preposterous. The thought of running had evidently never crossed their minds. Fearless of danger, and accustomed to pick off squirrels from the tops of the loftiest trees with their rifle-balls, they were quietly doing what they were put there to perform, viz., kill men, and Maj. Leavenworth said there was the most deadly work in the whole line. Men fell like grass before the scythe. Not a shot was thrown away—ten men were equal to a hundred firing in the ordinary way.

The American army rested but two days after the battle, and then advanced over the Chippewa, Scott's brigade leading. The British retreated to Burlington Heights, near the head of Lake Ontario. Thither Brown resolved to follow them. But on the 25th, while the army was resting, preparatory to the next day's battle, word was brought that a thousand English troops had crossed the river to Lewistown, for the purpose, evidently, of seizing our magazines at Fort Schlosser, and the supplies, on the way to the American camp, from Buffalo. In order to force them to return, Brown resolved immediately to threaten the forts at the mouth of the Niagara river, and in twenty minutes, Scott, with a detachment of twelve hundred men, was on the march. He had proceeded but two miles, when he came in sight of a group of British officers on horseback, evidently reconnoitering. The force to which they belonged lay behind a strip of wood, which prevented him from seeing it. Supposing it, however, to be the fragments of the army he had so terribly shattered at Chippewa, he ordered the march to be resumed. But as he cleared the road he saw before him an army of two thousand men drawn up in order of battle. He paused a moment at this unexpected sight, and his eye had an anxious look as it ran along his little band. To retreat would endanger the reserve marching to his relief, and destroy the confidence of the troops. Besides, Scott never had, and never has since, learned practically, what the word "retreat" meant. He determined, therefore, hazardous as it was, to maintain the unequal contest till the other portion of the army arrived. Despatching officers to General Brown with directions to ride as for life, he gave the orders to advance. The sun, at this time, was but half an hour high, and unobscured by a cloud, was going to his lordly repose behind the forest that stood bathed in his departing splendor. Near by, in full view, rolled the cataract, sending up its incense towards heaven, and filling that summer evening with its voice of thunder. The spray, as it floated inland, hovered over the American army, and as the departing sunbeams struck it, a rainbow was formed, which encircled the head of Scott's column like a halo—a symbol of the wreath of glory that should adorn it forever.

The British, two thousand strong, were posted just below the Falls, on a ridge at the head of Lundy's Lane. Their left was in the highway, and separated from the main body by an interval of two hundred yards, covered with brushwood, etc. General Drummond had landed a short time before with reinforcements, which were rapidly marching up to the aid of Riall. Scott, however, would not turn his back on the enemy, and gallantly led in person his little army into the fire. His bearing and words inspired confidence, and officers and men forgot the odds that were against them. Major Jessup was ordered to fling himself in the interval, between the British centre and left, and turn the latter. In the mean time the enemy discovering that he outflanked the Americans on the left, advanced a battalion to take them in rear. The brave McNeil stopped, with one terrible blow, its progress, though his own battalion was dreadfully shattered by it. Jessup had succeeded in his movement, and having gained the enemy's rear, charged back through his line, captured the commanding general, Riall, with his whole staff. When this was told to Scott, he announced it to the army, and three loud cheers rang over the field. A destructive discharge from the English battery of seven pieces, replied.

It was night now, and a serene moon rose over the scene, but its light struggled in vain to pierce the smoke that curtained in the combatants. The flashes from the battery that crowned the heights, and from the infantry below, alone revealed where they were struggling. Scott's regiments were soon all reduced to skeletons—a fourth of the whole brigade had fallen in the unequal conflict. The English battery of twenty-four-pounders and howitzers, sent destruction through his ranks. He, however, refused to yield a foot of ground, and heading almost every charge in person, moved with such gay spirits and reckless courage through the deadliest fire, that the troops caught the infection. But the British batteries, now augmented to nine guns, made frightful havoc in his uncovered brigade. Towson's few pieces being necessarily placed so much lower, could produce but little effect, while the enemy's twenty-four-pounders, loaded with grape, swept the entire field. The eleventh and twenty-second regiments, deprived of their commanders, and destitute of ammunition were withdrawn, and Leavenworth, with the gallant ninth, was compelled to withstand the whole shock of battle. With such energy and superior numbers did the British press upon this single regiment, that it appeared amid the darkness to be enveloped in fire. Its destruction seemed inevitable, and in a short time one-half of its number lay stretched on the field. Leavenworth sent to Scott, informing him of his desperate condition. The latter soon came up on a gallop, when Leavenworth pointing to the bleeding fragment of his regiment, said, "Your rule for retreating is fulfilled," referring to Scott's maxim that a regiment might retreat when every third man was killed. Scott, however, answered buoyantly, cheered up the men and officers by promising victory, and spurring where the balls fell thickest, animated them by his daring courage and chivalric bearing to still greater efforts. Still he could not but see that his case was getting desperate, and unless aid arrived soon, he must retreat. Only five or six hundred of the twelve hundred he at sunset had led into battle, remained to him. General Brown, however, was hurrying to the rescue. The incessant cannonading convinced him that Scott had a heavy force on his hands; and without waiting the arrival of a messenger, he directed Ripley to move forward with the second brigade. Meeting Scott's dispatch on the way, he learned how desperate the battle was, and immediately directed Porter with the volunteers to hurry on after Ripley, while he, in advance of all, hastened to the field of action. The constant and heavy explosions of artillery, rising over the roar of the cataract, announced to the excited soldiers the danger of their comrades; and no sooner were they wheeled into marching order than they started on a trot along the road. Lieut. Riddle, who was off on a scouring expedition in the country, paused as he heard the thunder of cannon, and waiting for no dispatch, gave orders to march, and his men moving at the charge de pas, soon came with shouts on the field. At length the head of Ripley's column emerged into view, sending joy through those gallant regiments, and a loud huzza rolled along their line. Brown, seeing that Scott's brigade was exhausted, ordered Ripley to form in advance of it. In the mean time, Drummond had arrived on the field with reinforcements, swelling the English army to four thousand men. At this moment there was a lull in the battle, and both armies prepared for a decisive blow. It was evident the deadly battery on the heights must be carried, or the field be lost, and Brown, turning to Colonel Miller, asked him if he could take it. "I will try, sir," was the brief reply of the fearless soldier, as he coolly scanned the frowning heights. Placing himself at the head of the 21st regiment, he prepared to ascend the hill. Major M'Farland with the 23d was to support him. Not having arrived on the field till after dark, he was ignorant of the formation of the ground or the best point from which to commence the ascent. Scott, who had fought over almost every foot of it since sunset, offered to pilot him. Passing by an old church and grave-yard, that showed dimly in the moonlight, he took the column to the proper place, and then returned to his post. In close order and dead silence the two regiments then moved straight for the battery. It was by their heavy muffled tread that General Drummond first detected their approach. But the moment he caught the dark outlines of the swiftly advancing columns he turned his battery upon them with terrific effect. The twenty-third staggered under the discharge, but soon rallied and pressed forward. Smitten again, it reeled backward down the hill; but the twenty-first never faltered. "Close up, steady, men!" rung from the lips of their leader, and taking the loads of grape-shot unshrinkingly into their bosoms, they marched sternly on, their bayonets gleaming red in the fire that rolled in streams down the slope. Every explosion revealed the whole hill and that dark column winding through flame and smoke up its sides. At length it came within range of musketry, when the carnage became awful; but still on through the sheets of flame, over their dead comrades, this invincible regiment held its stubborn course towards the very vortex of the battle. The English gazed with amazement on its steady advance. No hesitation marked its movement; closing up its ranks after every discharge, it kept on its terrible way, till at last it stood face to face with the murderous battery, and within a few steps of the gunners. A sudden flash, a deafening explosion, and then "Close up, steady, charge," rung out from the sulphurous cloud that rolled over the shattered regiment, and the next instant it swept with a thrilling shout over guns, gunners, and all. The struggle became at once close and fierce,—bayonet crossed bayonet,—weapon clashed against weapon,—but nothing could resist that determined onset. The British were driven down the hill, and the remnants of that gallant regiment, together with M'Farland's, which had again rallied, formed between the guns and the foe. Ripley then moved his brigade to the top of the hill, in order to keep what had been so heroically won.

Stung with rage and mortification at this unexpected defeat, Drummond resolved to retake that height and his guns, cost what it might; and soon the tread of his advancing columns was heard ascending the slope. With their uniforms glittering in the bright moonlight, the excited troops came on at the charge step, until within twenty yards of the American line, when they halted and delivered their fire. "Charge" then ran along the line, but the order had scarcely pealed on the night air before they were shattered and torn into fragments by the sudden and destructive volley of the Americans. Rallying, however, they returned to the attack, and for twenty minutes the conflict around those guns was indescribably awful and murderous. No sounds of music drowned the death-cry; the struggle was too close and fatal. There were only the fierce tramp and the clash of steel,—the stifled cry and wavering to and fro of men in a death-grapple. At length the British broke, and disappeared in the darkness. General Ripley again formed his line, while Scott, who had succeeded in getting a single battalion out of the fragments of his whole brigade, was ordered to the top of the hill.

In about half an hour the sound of the returning enemy was again heard. Smote by the same fierce fire, Drummond with a desperate effort threw his entire strength on the centre of the American line. But there stood the gallant twenty-first, whose resistless charge had first swept the hill; and where they had conquered they could not yield. Scott in the mean time led his column so as to take the enemy in flank and rear, and but for a sudden volley from a concealed body of the enemy, cutting his command in two, would have finished the battle with a blow. As it was, he charged again and again, with resistless energy, and the disordered ranks of the British for the second time rolled back and were lost in the gloom. Here Scott's last horse fell under him, and he moved on foot amid his battalion. Jessup was also severely wounded, yet there he stood amid the darkness and carnage, cheering on his men. The soldiers vied with the officers in heroic daring and patient suffering. Many would call out for muskets as they had none, or for cartridges as theirs were all gone. On every side from pallid lips and prostrate bleeding forms came the reply, "take mine, and mine, my gun is in good order, and my cartridge box is full." There was scarcely an officer at this time unwounded; yet, one and all refused to yield the command while they could keep their feet.

Jessup's flag was riddled with balls, and as a sergeant waved it amid a storm of bullets, the staff was severed in three places in his hand. Turning to his commander he exclaimed as he took up the fragments, "Look, colonel, how they have cut us." The next moment a ball passed through his body. But he still kept his feet, and still waved his mutilated standard, until faint with loss of blood he sunk on the field.

After being driven the second time down the hill, the enemy for a while ceased their efforts, and sudden silence fell on the two armies, broken only by the groans of the wounded and dying. The scene, and the hour, combined to render that hill-top a strange and fearful object in the darkness. On one side lay a wilderness, on the other rolled the cataract, whose solemn anthem could again be heard pealing on through the night. Leaning on their heated guns, that gallant band stood bleeding amid the wreck it had made. It was midnight—the stars looked quietly down from the sky—the summer wind swept softly by, and nature was breathing long and peacefully. But all over that hill lay the brave dead, and adown its sides in every direction the blood of men was rippling. Nothing but skeletons of regiments remained, yet calm and stern were the words spoken there in the darkness. "Close up the ranks," were the heroic orders that still fell on the shattered battalions, and they closed with the same firm presence and dauntless hearts as before.

It was thought that the British would make no further attempts to recover their guns, but reinforcements having arrived from Fort George, they, after an hour's repose and refreshment, prepared for a final assault. Our troops had all this time stood to their arms, and faint with hunger, thirst, and fatigue, seemed unequal to a third conflict against a fresh force. But as they heard the enemy advancing, they forgot their weariness and met the onset firmly as before. But this time the ranks of the enemy did not yield under the fire that smote them—they pressed steadily forward, and delivering their volleys as they advanced, at length stood on the summit of the hill, and breast to breast with the American line. The conflict now became fearful and more like the murderous hand-to-hand fights of old than a modern battle. Battalions on both sides were forced back till the ranks became mingled. Bayonet crossed bayonet and men lay transfixed side by side. Hindman, whose artillery had been from the first served with surpassing skill, found the enemy amid his guns, across which he was compelled to fight them.

The firing gave way to the clash of steel, the blazing hill-top subsided into gloom, out of which the sound of this nocturnal combat arose in strange and wild confusion.

Scott, charging like fire at the head of his exhausted battalion, received another severe wound which prostrated him—but his last words to Leavenworth were, "Charge again!" "Charge again, Leavenworth!" he cried, as they bore him, apparently dying, from that fierce foughten field. General Brown, supported on his horse, and suffering from a severe wound, was slowly led away. Jesup was bleeding from several wounds; every regimental officer in Scott's brigade was killed or wounded. Only one soldier out of every four stood up unhurt. The annals of war rarely reveal such a slaughter in a single brigade, but it is rarer still a brigade has such a leader. The ghosts of regiments alone remained, yet before these the veterans of England were at last compelled to flee, and betake themselves to the darkness for safety. Sullen, mortified, and badly wounded, Drummond was carried from the field, and all farther attempts to take the hill were abandoned. The Americans, however, kept watch and ward, around the cannon that had cost them so great a sacrifice, till near daybreak, when orders were received to retire to camp. No water could be obtained on the heights, and the troops wanted repose. Through the want of drag-ropes and horses, the cannon were left behind. This was a sad drawback to the victory, and Major Ripley should have detailed some men to have taken at least the lightest ones away. Trophies won with the blood of so many brave men were worth more effort than he put forth to secure them.

A bloodier battle, in proportion to the numbers engaged, was never fought than this. Nearly eight hundred Americans, and as many English, had fallen on and around that single hill. It was literally loaded with the slain. Seventy-six officers were either killed or wounded out of our army of some three thousand men, and not a general on either side remained unwounded.

Among the slain was young Captain Hull, son of the General who had so shamefully capitulated at Detroit. This young officer, who had fought one duel in defence of his father's honor, and struggled in vain to shake off the sense of disgrace that clung to him, told a friend at the opening of the battle, that he had resolved to fling away a life which had become insupportable. When the conflict was done, he was found stark and stiff where the dead lay thickest.

It would be impossible to relate all the deeds of daring and gallantry which distinguished this bloody engagement. Almost every man was a hero, and from that hour England felt a respect for our arms she had never before entertained. The navy had established its reputation forever, and now the army challenged the respect of the world. The timorous and the ignorant had been swept away with the old martinets, and the true genius of the country was shining forth in her young men, who, while they did not despise the past, took lessons of the present. Scott at this time, but twenty-eight years of age, had shown to the country what a single youth, fired with patriotism, confident in his resources, and daring in spirit, could accomplish. His brigade, it is true, had been almost annihilated, and nothing apparently been gained; but those err much who graduate the results of a battle by the number taken prisoners or the territory acquired. Moral power is always more valuable than physical, and though we are forever demanding something tangible to show as the reward of such a great effort and sacrifice, yet to gain a national position is more important than to take an army. Thus while many think that the battle of Niagara, though gallantly fought, was a barren one, and furnished no compensation for the great slaughter that characterized it, yet there has been none since that of Bunker Hill, more important to this country, and which, directly and indirectly, has more affected its interests. It probably saved more battles than if, by stratagem or superior force, General Brown had succeeded in capturing Drummond's entire army.

Brown and Scott both being disabled, the command devolved on Major Ripley, who retired behind the Chippewa, and the defences recently erected by the British. Scott's last wound was a severe one. A musket ball had shattered his shoulder dreadfully, and for a long time it was extremely doubtful whether he ever recovered. He suffered excruciating pain from it, and it was September before he ventured to travel, and then slowly and with great care. His progress was a constant ovation. The young and wounded chieftain was hailed on his passage with salvos of artillery, and shouts of freemen. He arrived at Princeton on commencement day of Nassau Hall. The professors immediately sent a delegation requesting his attendance at the church. Leaning on the arm of his gallant aid-de-camp, Worth—his arm in a sling, and his countenance haggard and worn from his long suffering and confinement, the tall young warrior slowly moved up the aisle, and with great difficulty ascended the steps to the stage. At first sight of the invalid, looking so unlike the dashing, fearless commander, a murmur of sympathy ran through the house, the next moment there went up a shout that shook the building to its foundations.

Passing on to Baltimore, then threatened with an attack by the British, he finally so far recovered as to take command in the middle of October of the tenth military district, and established his headquarters at Washington City.

General Brown was indignant with General Ripley for leaving the cannon behind, and peremptorily ordered him to reoccupy the heights of Lundy's Lane at daybreak, and remain there till the dead were buried and the guns removed. He however did not commence his march till after sunrise, and then being told that the enemy were in possession of the heights, he halted, and finally retired to Chippewa.

This officer, on whom the command had devolved since the battle, seemed from the first opposed to all the movements. When the army was about to cross the river against Riall, he not only strongly condemned the proceeding, but even offered his resignation, which was not accepted. By his neglect to remove, or attempt to remove the captured guns, which had cost such a heroic struggle, and his after delay to return and take them, it would seem as if he were offended that such brilliant results had followed a course which had met with his strong disapprobation. He was an able officer and a brave man, yet his heart was not in this movement of Brown's, consequently he did not go into combat with the enthusiasm of Scott, Miller, and Jesup, nor feel so elated by the victory.

Soon after, a rumor was spread that Drummond was marching on the American camp. Although occupying a strong position, Ripley immediately ordered a retreat to the ferry opposite Black Rock, with the intention of recrossing the river into the limits of the United States. This sudden determination, founded on a mere rumor, can hardly be accounted for, except on the supposition that he could not be contented till the army was back to the place it started from, and whence it never would have moved had he been commander-in-chief. He was prevented from carrying out this purpose by the earnest remonstrances of McCrea and Wood, who scorned to flee so ignominiously from the field of their fame. Ripley then left the army and hastened to Buffalo, to obtain Brown's consent to the measure. The wounded hero was enraged that the commanding officer should contemplate such a virtual confession of defeat—rebuked him, and ordered the division to remain at Fort Erie, and fortify and defend it to the last extremity. He also sent a dispatch to General Gaines, commanding at Sackett's Harbor, to repair at once to the army at Fort Erie, and take command of both.