s. The
Continental force in front of him was small at first, and Washington's
army was weakened by the withdrawal of troops who were hurried forward
to meet this Canadian invasion. A British detachment from New York was
to force its way up the Hudson, sweeping away the enemy on the route,
and make a junction with Burgoyne at Albany. Then was the time when
Washington's weakened army should have been struck too; but a greater
Power willed otherwise: nor am I, for one, even going to regret the
termination of the war. As we look over the game now, how clear seem the
blunders which were made by the losing side! From the beginning to the
end we were for ever arriving too late. Our supplies and reinforcements
from home were too late. Our troops were in difficulty, and our succours
reached them too late. Our fleet appeared off York Town just too
late, after Cornwallis had surrendered. A way of escape was opened
to Burgoyne, but he resolved upon retreat too late. I have heard
discomfited officers in after days prove infallibly how a different wind
would have saved America to us; how we must have destroyed the French
fleet but for a tempest or two; how once, twice, thrice, but for
nightfall, Mr. Washington and his army were in our power. Who has not
speculated, in the course of his reading of history, upon the "Has been"
and the "Might have been" in the world? I take my tattered old map-book
from the shelf, and see the board on which the great contest was played;
I wonder at the curious chances which lost it: and, putting aside any
idle talk about the respective bravery of the two nations, can't but see
that we had the best cards, and that we lost the game.

I own the sport had a considerable fascination for me, and stirred up
my languid blood. My brother Hal, when settled on his plantation in
Virginia, was perfectly satisfied with the sports and occupations he
found there. The company of the country neighbours sufficed him; he
never tired of looking after his crops and people, taking his fish,
shooting his ducks, hunting in his woods, or enjoying his rubber and
his supper. Happy Hal, in his great barn of a house, under his roomy
porches, his dogs lying round his feet; his friends, the Virginian Will
Wimbles, at free quarters in his mansion; his negroes fat, lazy, and
ragged: his shrewd little wife ruling over them and her husband, who
always obeyed her implicitly when living, and who was pretty speedily
consoled when she died! I