d through the ranks, as such
things will in battle, that a New England Colonel had fired the bridge
to save himself and his regiment. How we cursed New England then, and
swore that if we ever escaped we would have our reckoning with her and
her people.

"There they come!" cried Dick at my side, pointing to where a large
stone house crowned a hill immediately in the rear and commanded the
whole field of the terror-stricken fugitives.

I saw the brilliant scarlet of their coats as they took possession of
the hill and prepared to open fire.

"They will have to be driven from there or we are lost," I answered.

Then, as the prospect looked the darkest and the long line of the
British formed to make their last advance, Lord Stirling rode up to
our line.

"Men of Maryland!" he shouted, "charge that hill, hold Cornwallis in
check and save the army!"

We answered with a yell, as he sprang from his horse to lead us.

Ah, I shall never forget the pride with which we stepped out of the
mass of flying fugitives, four hundred Marylanders, the greatest
dandies and bluest blood in all the army, for this, the proudest
service of the day. We formed for the charge as if on the drill
ground; our evolutions and lines were perfect, and would have done
credit to the grenadiers of the later empire. Stirling's sword was in
the air, the drums were beating the charge, when there broke from the
throats of our Marylanders the wild, thrilling yell of the southern
provinces, and we leaped to the charge up the long hill, straight into
the face of Cornwallis's army, a handful against thousands. Up, up the
hill we dashed. A fire as of hell broke upon us and rattled and roared
about our ears, thinning our ranks and strewing our pathway with the
dead. Men fell to the right and to the left of me, and I strode across
the bodies of the slain in my path; but still, over the roar of the
cannon and the rattle of musketry, high and shrill rose the yell of
the charging line. We swept up the hill, the crest was gained, and the
British fell back before us, when we were met by a sheet of flame, a
storm of lead and smoke and fire. We were raised as it were in the air
and held there gasping for breath, and then we were swept back down
the hill, struggling desperately to gain a foothold to make a stand.

Again we saw Stirling glance over the meadow and the marsh behind us
as we re-formed our line. His voice came ringing down our ranks.

"Once again, men of