munion services from the churches of Virginia and the
Carolinas. He also murdered the sick in their beds.

Perhaps a word of apology is due the Indians after all. Possibly they
got their ideas from Cockburn.

The battle of Lundy's Lane had been arranged for July 25, 1814, and so
the Americans crossed Niagara under General Brown to invade Canada.
General Winfield Scott led the advance, and gained a brilliant victory,
July 5, at Chippewa. The second engagement was at Lundy's Lane, within
the sound of the mighty cataract. Old man Lundy, whose lane was used for
the purpose, said that it was one of the bloodiest fights, by a good
many gallons, that he ever attended. The battle was, however, barren of
results, the historian says, though really an American victory from the
stand-point of the tactician and professional gore-spiller.

In September, Sir George Prevost took twelve thousand veteran troops who
had served under Wellington, and started for Plattsburg. The ships of
the British at the same time opened fire on the nine-dollar American
navy, and were almost annihilated. The troops under Prevost started in
to fight, but, learning of the destruction of the British fleet on Lake
Champlain, Prevost fled like a frightened fawn, leaving his sick and
wounded and large stores of lime-juice, porridge, and plum-pudding. The
Americans, who had been living on chopped horse-feed and ginseng-root,
took a week off and gave themselves up to the false joys of lime-juice
and general good feeling.

[Illustration: HIS RAINBOW SMILE.]

Along the coast the British destroyed everything they could lay their
hands on; but perhaps the rudest thing they did was to enter Washington
and burn the Capitol, the Congressional library, and the smoke-house in
which President Madison kept his hams. Even now, when the writer is a
guest of some great English dignitary, and perhaps at table picking the
"merry-thought" of a canvas-back duck, the memory of this thing comes
over him, and, burying his face in the costly napery, he gives himself
up to grief until kind words and a celery-glass-full of turpentine, or
something, bring back his buoyancy and rainbow smile. The hospitality
and generous treatment of our English brother to Americans now is
something beautiful, unaffected, and well worth a voyage across the
qualmy sea to see, but when Cockburn burned down the Capitol and took
the President's sugar-cured hams he did a rude act.

CHAPTER XXI.

T