In the letter just quoted, Washington wrote further:

"Whither they [the enemy] are now bound,... I know not, but as New York and Hudson's River are the most important objects they can have in view ... therefore as soon as they embarked, I detached a brigade of six regiments to that government and when they sailed another brigade composed of the same number, and tomorrow another brigade of five regiments will march. In a day or two more, I shall follow myself, and be in New York ready to receive all but the first."

Uncertain as to his power to hold New York, Washington promptly took the next step that appeared open to him, carrying in his heart a heavy weight of care, and realizing, as perhaps no other man did, that only divine assistance could give him final success. He was bent upon a desperate mission, but to it, with sublime patience, he gave every energy of his masterly mind, and the entire consecration of all that he possessed.

Well was it for him that the power which controls nations was quietly working with him. Well, also, that in his army were men ready for any enterprise of danger, for any sacrifice that duty might demand.

Washington proceeded to New York, to ultimate victory, to final and permanent fame. Nathan Hale went also, simply as a captain of a Connecticut company,—he not to victory, not to immediate fame, but to something higher in one sense than either victory or fame, and to a service well worth a man's doing.

Nathan Hale belonged to the first brigade dispatched to New York—that of General Heath. After rapid marching, considering the state of the roads, "Hale found himself" (March 26th) "for the third time" among his New London friends. The next day they "embarked in high spirits on fifteen transports and sailed for New York." On March 30th the troops "disembarked at Turtle Bay, a convenient landing place" near what is now East 45th Street. Not far from that spot, within six months, Nathan Hale was to win a victory that time can never dim, even if, for a time, it appeared to have covered his memory with a pall. But in that landing-day no shadows were apparent,—only hope, and the zest inevitable in a soldier's life.

A minor honor was soon to come to Nathan Hale. Late in 1775 Enoch Hale was licensed to preach. In the summer of 1776 he attended Commencement at New Haven, from July 23 to 26. He makes note in his diary of friends and classmates whom he saw; also that he obtained the degree of Master of Arts for Nathan and himself. Of the latter his record is, "Write to brother to tell him I have got him his degree."

One or two more letters of Hale are extant from which only partial extracts have been made. One that was written on the 3d of June, 1776, we give with more fullness, omitting only some unimportant clauses. This letter has especial value as an illustration of the fact that most of us now and then have received letters that seemed casual in themselves, but have, to our surprise and often to our deep sadness, proved to be farewell letters.

It is not probable that, in the hurried days that followed, further messages were sent to his grandmother, to his former pastor and beloved teacher, Mr. Huntington, and to his sister Rose and her family. In the late autumn of 1776, after they had learned his fate, and in the years that followed, one can easily imagine how precious seemed these appreciative words, embalming as it were the abiding affection of the man who wrote them. Hale's reference to "the Doctor" also recalls the fact that, from the immediate family of Deacon Richard Hale, five men—three sons, one stepson, and one son-in-law (Surgeon Rose)—entered the Revolutionary Army; one son dying in 1776, one son in 1784, his health having been ruined while in the service, and one son in 1802, his life perhaps shortened by his exposures. Whatever else may have been lacking in that one family, patriotism certainly was not deficient,—the patriotism that does not count the cost to one's self, but the gain to one's country.

The following is the letter referred to, written to his brother Enoch:

Dear Brother,

New York June 3d 1776

Your Favour of the 9th of May and another written at Norwich I have received—the first mentioned one the 19th of May ult.

You complain of my neglecting you—It is not, I acknowledge, wholly without reason—at the same time I am conscious to have written to you more than once or twice within this half year. Perhaps my letters have miscarried.

Continuance or removal here depends wholly upon the operations of the war.

It gives pleasure to every friend of his country to observe the health which prevails in our army. Dr. Eli (Surgeon of our Regt.) told me a few days since, there was not a man in our Regt. but might upon occasion go out with his Firelock. Much the same is said of other Regiments.

The army is improving in discipline, and it is hoped will soon be able to meet the enemy at any kind of play. My company which at first was small, is now increased to eighty and there is a sergeant recruiting who, I hope, has got the other ten which completes the company. We are hardly able to judge as to the numbers the British army for the Summer is to consist of—undoubtedly sufficient to cause us too much bloodshed.

I had written you a complete letter in answer to your last, but missed the opportunity of sending it.

This will find you in Coventry—if so remember me to all my friends—particularly belonging to the Family. Forget not frequently to visit and strongly to represent my duty to our good Grandmother Strong. Has she not repeatedly favored us with her tender, most important advice? The natural Tie is sufficient, but increased by so much goodness, our gratitude cannot be too sensible.

I always with respect remember Mr. Huntington and shall write to him if time admits. Pay Mr. Wright a visit for me. Tell him Asher is well—he has for some time lived with me as a waiter.... Asher this moment told me that our brother Joseph Adams was here yesterday to see me, when I happened to be out of the way. He is in Col. Parson's Regt. I intend to see him to-day and if possible by exchanging get him into my company.

Yours affectionately.
N. Hale.

P. S. Sister Rose talked of making me some Linen cloth similar to Brown Holland for Summer wear. If she has made it, desire her to keep it for me. My love to her, the Doctor, and little Joseph.

As Washington had supposed probable, the English decided upon the occupation of New York. In July and August the largest army ever collected in one body upon the American continent prior to 1861, an English army numbering nearly thirty-two thousand men, with a formidable fleet and large munitions of war, gathered at Staten Island. Washington, in the meantime, was occupying a portion of Brooklyn and a portion of the city of New York, fortifying each place and preparing to defend it to the extent of his ability with his small army, never so well fed nor so thoroughly disciplined as that of the British.

Human wisdom would have assumed that the British army would soon succeed in restoring English control; but the best-laid plans miscarry, and a power interposes that helps the weaker and hinders the stronger army.

The English did their best to be ready for the coming conflict, and we know that Washington spared no pains in preparing for the worst that might come.

On August 20, Nathan Hale wrote the following letter to his brother Enoch—the last letter that he ever wrote, so far as we know, to reach its destination. It shows that his heart was absorbed in the duties of the conflict he was sharing, and it also shows how wholly he was leaving the ultimate issue to a higher power.

New York, August 20, 1776.

Dear Brother.

I have only time for a hasty letter. Our situation this fortnight or more has been such as scarce to admit of writing. We have daily expected an action—by which means, if any one was going and we had letters written, orders were so strict for our tarrying in camp that we could rarely get leave to go and deliver them. For about 6 or 8 days the enemy have been expected hourly, whenever the wind and tide in the least favored. We keep a particular lookout for them this morning. The place and manner of our attack time must determine. The event we leave to Heaven. Thanks to God! We have had time for completing our works and receiving our reinforcements. The Militia of Connecticut ordered this way are mostly arrived. Col. Ward's Regiment has got in. Troops from the southward are daily coming. We hope under God to give account of the enemy whenever they choose to make the last appeal.

Last Friday night, two of our fire vessels (a Sloop and Schooner) made an attempt upon the shipping up the river. The night was too dark, the wind too slack for the attempt. The Schooner which was intended for one of the Ships had got by before she discovered them; but as Providence would have it, she run athwart a bomb-catch, which she quickly burned. The Sloop by the light of the former discovered the Ph[oe]nix—but rather too late—however she made shift to grapple her, but the wind not proving sufficient to bring her close alongside, or drive the flames immediately on board, the Ph[oe]nix after much difficulty got her clear by cutting her own rigging. Sergt. Fosdick, who commanded the above sloop, and four of his hands were of my company, the remaining two were of this Regt. The Genl. has been pleased to reward their bravery with forty Dollars each, except the last man that quitted the fire-sloop who had fifty. Those on board the Schooner received the same.

I must write to some of my other brothers lest you should not be at home. Remain

Your friend &c
Brother Na. Hale.

Mr. Enoch Hale.

Aside from this letter, the following brief quotations from his diary are all that remain to us in the handwriting of Nathan Hale. Till he lays down his pen for the last time we see him absorbed in the cares and duties of the life about him, fearlessly facing whatever remains to him of life and service.

Aug. 21st. Heavy storm at Night. Much and heavy Thunder. Capt. Van Wyke, and a Lieut, and Ens. of Colo. McDougall's Regt. killed by a Shock. Likewise one man in town, belonging to a Militia Regt. of Connecticut. The Storm continued for two or three hours, for the greatest part of which time [there] was a perpetual Lightning, and the sharpest I ever knew.

22d. Thursday. The enemy landed some troops down at the Narrows on Long Island.

23d. Friday. Enemy landed more troops—News that they had marched up and taken Station near Flatbush, their advce Gds [advance guards] being on this side near the Woods—that some of our Rifle-men attacked and drove them back from their post, burnt 2 stacks of hay, and it was thought killed some of them—this about 12 O'clock at Night. Our troops attacked them at their station near Flatb. [Flatbush], routed and drove them back 1½ mile.

One of the facts most perplexing to General Washington was what appeared to be Sir William Howe's delay in making an attack. Indeed, to an outsider unfamiliar with military tactics, Howe's conduct resembles the cruel pleasure a cat sometimes takes in tormenting a mouse that it knows cannot escape. The uncertainty as to what the next British move might be caused much anxiety. Remembering that Howe's force had arrived the last of June, one sees how leisurely must have been his preparations for attack, and how assured his hope of victory.

The expected attack occurred on August 27. The Americans were defeated and driven within their works, their losses being great, especially in prisoners. The Nineteenth Regiment was held in reserve, but Captain Hull wrote that they were near enough to witness the carnage among their fellow-soldiers.

The night after the battle the enemy encamped within a few hundred yards of the defeated Americans. On the 29th Washington decided upon a retreat to New York, and it was effected that night. If the English had suspected that the Americans were withdrawing their forces from Brooklyn, it is easy to imagine the carnage that would have ensued. So great was Washington's anxiety at this time that he is said not to have slept during forty-eight hours, and rarely to have dismounted from his horse.

One account of the retreat is as follows: "A disadvantageous wind and rain at first prevented the troops from embarking, and it was feared that the retreat could not be effected that night. But about eleven o'clock a favorable breeze sprung up, the tide turned in the right direction, and about two o'clock in the morning, a thick fog arose which hung over Long Island, while on the New York side it was clear. During the night, the whole American army, nine thousand in number, Washington embarking last of all, with all the artillery, such heavy ordnance as was of any value, ammunition, provision, cattle, horses, carts, and everything of importance, passed safely over.

"All this was effected without the knowledge of the British, although the enemy were so nigh that they were heard at work with their pickaxes and shovels. In half an hour after the lines were finally abandoned, the fog cleared off and the enemy were seen taking possession of the American works. One boat on the river, ... within reach of the enemy's fire, was obliged to return; she had only three men in her, who had loitered behind to plunder."

That opportune appearance of the fog must have seemed, to more than one devout heart, as helpful as some of the remarkable interpositions of Providence described in the old Biblical stories.

Hale's company, with its many seamen, rendered effective service in this passage from Long Island. Every student of history, and especially of military history, can recall certain decisive hours in momentous battles when some utterly unforeseen event has entirely changed the face of affairs, and given the victory into unexpected hands; thus, a mistake in the understanding of a phrase used by his captors made AndrÉ a prisoner, and saved the capture of West Point by the English; while Waterloo, Gettysburg, and many another decisive battle has hinged on seeming chance,—chance truly, if there is no power working for righteousness among the affairs of nations.

The position of the American army, however, now appeared more perilous than ever. Two war vessels had moved up the East River and were followed by others. Active movements among the British troops were reported by all the scouts, but the enemy's designs could not be penetrated.