utlook, nevertheless, was, as Washington wrote, "truly
distressing." The troops were dispirited, and the militia began to
disappear, as they always did after a defeat. Congress would not
permit the destruction of the city, different interests pulled in
different directions, conflicting opinions distracted the councils
of war, and, with utter inability to predict the enemy's movements,
everything led to halfway measures and to intense anxiety, while Lord
Howe tried to negotiate with Congress, and the Americans waited for
events. Washington, looking beyond the confusion of the moment, saw
that he had gained much by delay, and had his own plan well defined.
He wrote: "We have not only delayed the operations of the campaign
till it is too late to effect any capital incursion into the country,
but have drawn the enemy's forces to one point.... It would be
presumption to draw out our young troops into open ground against
their superiors both in number and discipline, and I have never spared
the spade and pickaxe." Every one else, however, saw only past defeat
and present peril.

The British ships gradually made their way up the river, until it
became apparent that they intended to surround and cut off the
American army. Washington made preparations to withdraw, but
uncertainty of information came near rendering his precautions futile.
September 15 the men-of-war opened fire, and troops were landed near
Kip's Bay. The militia in the breastworks at that point had been
at Brooklyn and gave way at once, communicating their panic to two
Connecticut regiments. Washington, galloping down to the scene of
battle, came upon the disordered and flying troops. He dashed in among
them, conjuring them to stop, but even while he was trying to rally
them they broke again on the appearance of some sixty or seventy of
the enemy, and ran in all directions. In a tempest of anger Washington
drew his pistols, struck the fugitives with his sword, and was only
forced from the field by one of his officers seizing the bridle of his
horse and dragging him away from the British, now within a hundred
yards of the spot.

Through all his trials and anxieties Washington always showed the
broadest and most generous sympathy. When the militia had begun to
leave him a few days before, although he despised their action and
protested bitterly to Congress against their employment, yet in his
letters he displayed a keen appreciation of their feelings, and saw
pl