Puff.

Well, gentlemen, a pretty state for British generals
and British troops—the terror of the world
become mere scare-crows to themselves.—We came to
America, flush’d with high expectations of conquest, and
curbing these sons of riot.—We tour’d away in the
senate as if our success was certain; as if we had only to
curb a few licentious villains, or hang them as spectacles
for their brethren—But how are we deceiv’d?—Instead
of this agreeable employ, we are shamefully confin’d within
the bounds of three miles, wrangling and starving among
ourselves.

Shal.

Curs’d alternative, either to be murder’d without,
or starv’d within—These yankey dogs treat us like a
parcel of poltroons; they divert themselves by firing at
us, as at a flock of partridges.—A man can scarcely put
his nose over the intrenchments without losing it;—another
loses his eyes, only looking thro’ the ambuseirs.—
They have a set of fellows call’d “rifflers”; they would shoot
the very devil if he was to come within a league of them.

Capt. Bash.

Gentleman, it will not do to set groaning
here; let us determine upon some plan quickly to be
done, otherwise I shall bid you farewell, and you may follow A2v 4
follow after as well as you are able.—You find every night
brings them nearer and nearer; they raise a hill and fortify
it in 6 hours—I expect soon to see a fortification
grow out of the channel, and our ships of war to be blown
up by some damn’d machine—Such devils are capable of
any thing; the power of miracles is put into their hands,
and they improve the patent to admiration.—You must
do something to dispossess them of those fortifications,
otherwise we shall not only be starv’d, but absolutely
murder’d.

L—d Dap.

Starv’d or murder’d are triffles, compar’d
to being taken prisoners, to be drag’d before their
“congresses”, “committees”, &c.—A pack of mutton-headed
fellows, with their rusty musquets, are more dread visitors
than a tribe of furies, just arriv’d from h—l; therefore
let us do something in earnest, or perhaps we shall be
too late for relief.

Puff.

The eminence on Dorchester-hill, which they began
last night, they must at all hazards be dispossess’d of;
we must rally our weak numbers, and drive them if possible;
but such is our situation, our men are become
meer skeletons; their present diet renders them more capable
of terrifying their enemies, than fighting of them:
—They will think the ghosts of their forefathers are
coming to battle against them.—Poor devils! I pity their
miserable state, but so the fates have order’d it, we can
only laugh or pity each other.

L—d Dap.

Curss’d cruel fate! that we should thus
be pen’d up.—Churchill’s description of Scotland is but a
shadow to it;—if that great genius was now alive, we
should soon have a new edition with amendments.—He
represents their flies and spiders, &c. as starving, but here
they are absolutely starv’d—poor innocent insects, I forgive
ye your former tormenting of my legs; ye suck’d ’till
you could find no nourishment, and then fell at my feet
and died—Thousands have lain gasping within the small
circle of my chair; their case was truly deplorable—I felt
their state by experience.—My case is somewhat parallel
to the prodigal son.—I may well adopt his words, “how man A3r 5
many hired servants of my father’s, have bread enough and
to spare, while I perish with hunger.”

Shal.

We shall all be obliged to follow his example;
I never thought to make an improvement of a parable,
but our case is now so truly deplorable that necessity
prompts me to do it.—Hard crusts and rusty bones have never
till now become my diet; they do not suit my digestion.—
My teeth are worn to stumps, and my lips are swell’d like
a blubber-mouth negro’s, by thumping hard bones against
them; my jaw bone has been set a dozen times, dislocated
by chewing hard pork, as tough as an old swine’s ass.

Puff.

Well gentlemen, we are all acquainted with
each other’s circumstances, but however, we cannot mend
them my recounting them—Let us rally our men and
drive those rebels from their fortifications, or else we may
soon expect to be introduc’d to their honor’s Adams and
Hancock, with sundry other gentleman of distinction—
My L—d Dapper must have the command, and I doubt
not we shall be able to dispossess them.—Let us keep up
our spirits, for we have nothing else to feed on, tho’ it is
a poor dish for a greedy appetite.

L—d Dap.

Some pretence must be made, as our honor
is at stake.

Sur.

Nothing can be more wretched than our state,—
vagabonds and outcasts in the world!—here we are,—
friends we have none,—we fled here for protection, but
how we are disappointed!—Those on whom we depended,
are as miserable as ourselves!—we have been cajol’d into
all this by that curss’d H――n,—he pleas’d us with
pensions, posts of honor, and profit, but the villain has
fled, and left us to shirk for ourselves—My dwellings I
have forsaken, my family are left to feed on the charity
of friends, if they can find any; while I, poor wretch,
have thrown myself upon the mercy of those who are unable
to help me.—My money I have let out on government
security—and poor security too, I am afraid;—from affluence A3v 6
affluence and splendor, I am reduc’d to wretchedness and
misery, and skulk about the streets like a dog that has lost
one ear.—Oh curs’d ambition! much better had it
been if I had stay’d among my countrymen, and partook
quietly of the produce of my farm.—Why need I have
medled in politicks, or burnt my fingers dabbling in this
sea of fire—My tenants and my oxen would have been
much more agreeable companions than these herd of
stalking poltroons, swaggering with their swords at their
a— and afraid to draw them from the scabbard.

Simp.

We have reason to blame ourselves—we have
brought affairs to the present state—we were fond
of the titles of “Col”. “Esq”. &c.—a gewgow of a commission
was sufficient to render us enemies to our country—We
contriv’d a thousand tricks to make ourselves obnoxious
to our countrymen, that we might be noticed as friends to
government;—we thought this would recommend us to
some lucrative post:—We embrac’d the shadow of grandeur,
but the substance has fled—A bow from a general
or a fifer is all the satisfaction we have for our loyalty.—
I am become almost asham’d of my company; a pack of
strutting pedanticks, looking like elopers from the grave,
“grinning horribly their ghastly smiles;” gallanting their
drosly nymphs, hag’d with constant use.—Sometimes I am
ready to heave myself upon the mercy of my injur’d
country, but the awful ideas of committees courts of enquiry,
&c. terrify me from this expedient:—Besides, shall
we stoop to submission to these miscreants;—we, Col’s.
Esq’rs. Judges, &c. bow to the lordly sway of these vile
villains?—I will rather perish than do it.

Sur.

Our pride is our only cordial—we have nothing
else to feed on;—d-m’d poor nourishment!—we have
been long fed on the sumptuous dish of expectation of relief,
but alass! we had so keen an appetite for that, we
quickly devour’d it,—the general has no further supply
left him, and we are now left to famish till a fresh supply
comes.—We have fled here as friends to government, but
how are we treated?—We are despised, our wives ravag’d,
and our daughters debauch’d;—honor or profit we have A4r 7
have none—abuse and ruin we have our ample shares of
—Much happier had we been, if instead of bowing and
cringing to the great, we had minded the concerns of
our farms; and instead of calculating the revenue of the
nation, we had considered the income of our own stocks.

Paun.

Alass! we have all been deceived;—we have
been pleased with the expectation of large reinforcements;
—that conquest was certain;—and that the rebels would
be speedily crushed—Flush’d with these sanguine hopes,
we have buoyed ourselves amidst these seas of tumult and
outrage, but now we find ourselves wofully deceived, without
any remedy.—Victory seems to declare in favour of
the country; she has fled from these brave sons of mars,
and takes refuge within the cells and cottages of America.

Sur.

Well, gentlemen, you may all whine and cry,
for my part I am determined to keep up my spirits, and
hope for better times—why should we be so discomforted,
because we have met with a little rugged treatment?—
we must expect to encounter with many such trifles, but
shall they discourage us? can we expect to gain honor
in a silver slipper? no, we must engage with H――l rather
than give up our point.――Its true, friend Paunch
cannot meet with his Dainty Soups, nor feast on his favourite
Fish and Oil, but shall this render him peevish and
fretful? I hope not—we are now to try our Loyalty, by
the grand touchstone of Affliction; let us act like men, and
I doubt not we shall be well rewarded.—His Majesty
will regard us as the faithful of the land, and will recompence
our fidelity with ample tokens of his affection――
Your poor dejected Countenances are a disgrace to the cause
we are engag’d in; reconcile yourselves to your present
state, and I doubt not a happy deliverance will speedily arrive.

Meagre.

“Deliverance” is a poor worn out, unmeaning
word—I am tir’d with the sound—a word with so little
meaning you cannot produce in a groce of dictionaries—
“Loyalty” and “Deliverance” are pleasing words when us’d with
propriety, but they are now maim’d with often handling.

Sim.

“Loyalty”, d――m the word and its meaning――It
is only a Court Watch Word, to entrap men, and then fleece
them of their property

Tab.

When did you receive this letter?

Dor.

His servant left it with me last night.

Tab.

He acquaints me that he intends to attend at the
back gate this evening, and that he shall expect me there.
I shall put great confidence in your friendship; if you
deceive me I am undone.

Dor.

If I deceive you, may your ruin fall on me.

Tab.

L—d Dapper has address’d me in very honorable
terms; he proposes to carry me to England, after the
present campaign, but my father (an old prig) is greatly
against it, and seems tired with the company of these “red
coats”, (as he calls them)—but this person I am determined
to have at all hazards.—Why should I deny myself
the pleasures and honors of this life, to please an old
fool that is just leaving of them.—The title of “lady” is very
agreeable; it is what many would jump at;—such
matches do not offer every day, and I shall improve the
time as dextrous as I can.

Dor.

“Make hay while the sun shines”, is a very good
maxim.—Indeed, madam, I approve your determination;
I should think you quite mad to determine otherways—
who would not have a young spark if they could meet
with one?—For my own part I would not lodge another
night without one, if I could meet with a good offer.

Tab.

All our correspondence must go thro’ your
hands, you must be cautious, and watchful, for the least
mishap will disconcert the whole plan.

Dor.

I am us’d to these thricks of gallantry; I have
introduc’d many a young sweet-heart—you may safely trust
your security in my hands.—But one thing I wou’d mention
(excuse my boldness) this L――d Dapper labours under
the disgrace of Inability.

Tab.

Inability, what do you mean? I hope he is not
wanting in any thing to render the marriage state agreable.
—If he is, I shall quickly throw him out of window, and appoint B1r 9
appoint a better person in his room—its true, since you
hint this, it makes me somewhat suspicious, he looks like
a baboon upon stilts, and I begin to be fearful of his abilities
—however, he will serve for a cully to fleece for my
indulgencies in dress and fashion

Dor.

That he may do, but for any thing else (if reports
are true) I had rather marry my old grandfather.

Sim.

The worst job that ever I did, to move to this accurss’d
place.—A friend to government! d—m connection!
—my family ruin’d—myself a despis’d old fool.

Wife.

My dear, do not be so childish—I am sure we
are agreeably situated, excepting our scantiness of provisions;
but great folks do not mind such trifles—roast beef,
&c. only becomes hard-skin’d plough joggers—eating and
drinking became us while we were rough farmers, but now
I should be ashamed to be seen setting round a smoking
table of provisions, craming and stuffing like a yoke of
oxen.—These delicate gentlemen and ladies would despise
us as yankees, to see us maunching bread and cheese, &c—
they would have very nasty ideas about us, for what goes
in must come out;—Oh it makes me sick to think of it!

Sim.

You will be more sick before it is over—I wish
I had now a good belly-full of what you mention; I
would willingly bear the ridicule, as to the manner of it’s
coming out.—I believe the most delicate lady among them,
would be glad of such stable contents, and risque the
hazard of it’s appearing again to the world—however,
my dear, I have no notion of being merry—I have more
serious affairs to think of.――I must acquaint you, that
I am absolutely ruin’d—my whole fortune is fell either
into the hands of the rebels without, or lent upon the security
of chance, to those within—my resources are entirely
exhausted—I have pleas’d myself with some appointment
in office, but I find that will fail—we have so B many B1v 10
many needy fellows among us, that one must make interest
to be even groom to the light horse.—What to do I know
not.

Wife.

Now forsooth you are going upon your old
whining scheme—because you see I am acquainted with
the gentry, you begin on these canting topics—you are
afraid I shall ask you for a silk gown, or a new cap; that I
shall want to see the plays, &c. and that you must have to
bring forth some of those rusty joannes, which you have
pilfer’d from your neighbours, when you was a justice.
—You may depend upon it, I shall begin to want these
things, and shall expect no hesitation or denial.—Do not
think I am to lead my life as a mope, as when we were
rusty farmers—we are now gentle-folks, and shall expect to
do like gentle-folks.—Our daughter Tabitha, she must also
be introduc’d into the fashionable company, not always be
a drudge about house—she has now no filthy butter to
chirn; she is no longer a dairy-maid, but a lady, and a
Government Lady too, and as such she shall be supported
—Who knows but some rich gentleman may fancy
her, and carry her to London, and perhaps take us with
her—then for it, we shall see life, and perhaps then you
may get a little beef, or something else to fatten your
paunch.――In short, you look so much like a skeleton,
I am afraid to go to bed to you—almost begin to wish for
another husband—Come, my dear, rouse yourself, don’t
think about your fat farm, let it go, it is all dirty stuff,
only fit for yankees.

Sim.

Poor foolish woman! how you feast on pride!
is it possible you are in earnest?—Can so much folly
dwell in women?—I always thought women to be but
one degree above a she ass, but you seem many degrees
below—you may pretend to vaunt in all these prudish
airs, but depend on it, you shall get no support from me.
—As to your daughter, she may expect to incur my displeasure,
if she goes romping among these ladies of quality.
—As to rich upstarts, I had rather marry her to a
good monkey, than to any figure of a man in the garrison
—What signifies putting a young girl to bed with a poor
famish’d image!

Wife.

You old fool, do you think I am to be frightned
out of my designs?—No, I will learn you to treat your
wife with a little more good manners—I wish you would
become a little more polish’d, and go into the company of
gentlemen and ladies—You would there hear nothing of
she asses, and such filthy farm terms.—My “dear”, and my
“honey”, are the terms there made use of—thousand pretty
things which I never before heard of, are whisper’d
round—they can talk to one another with their eyes, and
you can almost guess what they mean—none of your
coarse language defiles their conversation—nothing but
pure refinement.—I would not for the world go back to
my former habitation, to hear the grunting of hogs—
I should dye with the spleen. As to your not supplying
me, I am in no way concern’d about it; if you won’t another
will, and you may expect a pair of horns grow out
of your head as large as your old bulls.

Sim.

Do, and welcome, but stand clear if you come
within reach of them.

L――d Dap.

Well, my dear, we have met, agreeable to
appointment—I hope your old dad of a father has become
more reconcil’d—the old prig is as obstinate as a
mule; neither offers of profit or friendship have any avail
with him—however, let us not disappoint ourselves
of the pleasure of matrimony, for to gratify the whim of
a grey-headed old fool. All things are ready; fly from
this place of confinement, and let us celebrate our long
expected nuptials.

Tab.

My papa, Sir, remains as determined as ever—
he seems tir’d with being confin’d within the garrison—he
had rather be among his farm neighbours, which makes
him so fretful with all of your party—I do not think it
possible ever to get his consent, but such a trifle shall never
baulk my inclination—I shall throw off all reserve, and B2v 12
and put myself intirely under your protection—shall quit
the family, and depend upon your honor.

L――d Dap.

Poor girl, you will find but little of that. [Aside.]
—Come let us hasten as fast as possible, as delays of
this kind may prove fatal.

Sim.

Villain, what business have you with my daughter?

Officers.

Gentlemen soldiers, we are now agoing to
fight against these rebel dogs; be not discouraged, but let
us play the man.

Soldiers.

We had much rather fight for a good pudding.

Puff.

Heaven and earth are against us, the party are
entirely defeated from heaven, the wind has been so boisterous
as to drive them back. You see, gentlemen, our
situation, our enemies are gaining upon us hourly, one
night more perhaps will make us their prisoners—for
heaven’s sake let us determine upon something speedily,
whether to quit the town, or try once more to rout
these rebels.

Shal.

Why will you desire us to go to battle?—are
you for seeing another Bunker-Hill frolic?—those devils
would glory to have us come out to them, it would be
sport to the dogs, to see us breaking our shins, tumbling over B3r 13
over each other.――I esteem my life beyond my honor,
and am not for throwing it away for the diversion of a
parcel of yankees――If we cannot hold the garrison by
keeping in, for God’s sake, let’s beat a retreat; but the
Lord knows where; however, I had rather heave myself
upon the mercy of the sea, than be taken their prisoner.
—Who but a mad man would trust himself out of these
entrenchments? it is certain death.—I am for fighting,
where there is some prospect of coming off clear; but
here venture yourself out, and I would not insure you for
100 per cent.—d――n the devils, they excel their very father
Belzebub for fighting—I had rather engage with a
squadron just arrived from the lower-regions, than with
those curst fellows on yonder hill.

L――d Dapper.

You are quite right—such herds of
men are enough to scare Hannibal, and all the heroes that
ever lived,—look! what millions there are!—the inhabitants
of the four quarters of the globe (excepting ourselves)
are now on those hills!—for heaven’s sake, let us
improve the time, and retreat as fast as possible—I shall
expect all the fishes of the sea to turn men, and become
our enemies, let us improve our passport while the inhabitants
of the sea are at peace.

Dupe.

Now B――e, here is more matter for humor,
you may now give us a second edition of your farce.—This
is beyond all expectation!— a fine story to tell my L――d
N――h! but he is at helm, he may risk his own head if he
will, I am determined not to hazard mine for his whims—
he may go fight them one after another, if he pleases, he
shall not catch me to run his tom-fool errands—the ministry
and the parliament may come over, and hold their
courts in Boston, and may send forth, and execute their
acts if they think fit, they shall not find me fool enough to
run my head against a cannon ball, to execute their d――m
silly acts.—I never would have come on this expedition,
if I had had the least intimation of the bravery of this
people.—I thought a bright sword, and a smart cock’d hat,
would effectually have terrified these fellows into submission,
but I find the contrary, and have no inclination to
try their skill at man killing.

Shal.

If I had a scolding wife, perhaps I would venture
myself within a hundred yards of those hills; but while
I have not, you shall find me far enough from them; and
I don’t care how much farther.—Our ministry think soldiers
were made to be fir’d at as sport, but I hope on this
occasion they will find themselves deceived,—for my part,
I am determined to secure a place of safety;—if any have
a mind to go out, let them, they have my good wishes for
their return; but if they regard their lives, I advise all,
and every one to keep within the entrenchments—I would rather
sh――t my breeches than go without these forts to
ease myself.

Puff.

D――m them, I know the fellows by experience,
—I remember Bunker-Hill—I shall never forget them,
for their civility to me—their cock’d eye taking sight,
makes my very blood run cold—how I came off alive is
a miracle; whiz, whiz, whiz, good Lord, how it makes
me shudder to think of it!—no, no, my lads, you shan’t
catch me among you, while I am out of your reach, I
will keep out—In short, gentlemen, it will not do to be
looking at them; they seem preparing to come nearer us,
let us give out the alarm for a retreat immediately; we
must determine where to go, after we are without the reach
of these disagreeable visitors.

All.

As speedy as possible.

Sur.

A retreat, is it possible!—shall the British troops
ever suffer such disgrace, as to flee from a parcel of yankees?
—we have been fed up with high notions of the
power and resolution of these troops—but I find, when the
matter becomes serious, they are as terrify’d as old women—
the General has made a sham attempt to dispossess them of
their fortifications, but has withdrawn them with the pretence
of the wind being twotoo boisterous—what a pretty
hobble are we in, to be drove away from our only place of B4r 15
of security—but I find our strong holds are become meer
shadows of safety.—A very agreeable employ, for gentlemen
to be running after a pack of cowards, and what is
more miserable to depend on them for protection.—If I
could once get clear of my present state, you should never
find me again to depend on a broken reed.

Bon.

It signifies nothing to fret, and find fault among
ourselves, but let us be for securing a retreat as fast as
possible—let us be packing up our alls, and making our
best way off.—I have ruin’d my fortune, tagging after
these poltroons—I will now trouble them with my company
—if they cannot protect me, they shall maintain me;
while they have any thing to eat themselves, I am determined
to partake.—Poor encouragement for friends to government;
if they don’t find better reception than we
have met with, they will have but few volunteers.

Sim.

As to depending on their generosity for maintenance,
I have no notion of. I have a more effectual way
to support myself—I shall look out for snacks among the
booty, left in the town, by their runaway owners—I shall
improve the opportunity while pilfering is in the fashion;
the General has set us a very pretty example.

Mea.

Is this the sad alternative, either to heave ourselves
upon the mercy of our countrymen, or run away
with a parcel of cowards?—but however, as matters are
so circumstanced, we must make the best of it.—I have a
considerable quantity of the province money, which will
serve to procure me a scanty maintenance in our retreat
—sad state! half famish’d on land, and pent within the
garrison for 10 months, am now oblig’d to put to sea, to
vomet up what little guts I have remaining! crustcurst cruel
fate! are our high expectations come to this?—reinforcements,
and the Lord knows what, all become meer bug-bears?
farewel Boston, the once happy seat of my residence—
farewel friends, and countrymen, I leave ye all, to go I
know not where.

Brig. Paunch.

Gentlemen, we have just received orders
from the General to prepare speedily for a retreat,
the garrison is all in alarm, every one is driving helter skelter B4v 16
skelter—you must be careful how you walk the streets,
otherways you will break your shins or perhaps your necks,
in the general confusion—if I was not so intimately convinc’d,
the sight would be the most diverting that ever I
beheld—but our circumstances will not admit of speculation,
let us be gone, for the rebels are just upon us.

Sim.

Well, my dear, what think now of your agreeable
situation; your filthy farm, and coarse roast beef, &c.
nasty stuff!—what is the matter with your refined company
that they fly away so abruptly, methinks they might
have been polite enough to have given us some little notice
of their retreat; not run away like a parcel of mice, when
the cat comes among them.—I have for a long while been
fearful of this, but found my mistake too late—I have
outstay’d my day of grace, and find I must follow these
ranters a wild goose chase over land and sea—I am tir’d
of the chace! my family is ruin’d, and my daughter I
am afraid, is debauch’d by a painted monkey, who I saw
with her at the gate—the villain drew his sword upon
me, but like a true British general, I thought fit to run
away.

Wife.

I wonder, my dear, you should complain at going
abroad—I am fond of seeing the world—what signifies
always to be pen’t up within the smoke of our own
chimnies?—why should we not travel like other gentlefolks,
to learn the manners and customs of other nations?
must we always remain as ignorant as our brown bread
neighbours, and know nothing more of the world than
what is transacted within our own parish?—for my part
I am determined to extend my knowledge, and follow
the fleet from one end of the world to the other, rather
than remain as ignorant as our parson’s wife.—The rumour
is, that we are going to Halifax; a rich, flourishinging C1r 17
populous city, where nature wantons in all her luxury;
here we may enjoy and divert ourselves, without being
teazed with the constant alarms of the devilish yankees—
curse them, I wish they were all under your cyder press,
and I had the screwing of it.—Rouse up you old Lazarus,
and betake yourself, with your wife and family,
aboard the ships; don’t you hear the drums beat the
alarm?

Sim.

Worse and worse! greater fool than ever; it
seems to grow upon you—I presume you have made geography
your study, you are so well acquainted with the
clime and soil of Halifax:—rich and luxurious to admiration!
—experience is the best school master—you are
for seeing the world, and here perhaps you may be satisfy’d
by seeing the a――s of it.—I find you are a fresh water
sailor, and will make but a miserable figure aboard the
ship., along side of your polite company.—I shall pity your
modesty, when what is in will come out, and perhaps at
both ends.—Pray, my dear, was you ever sea sick?—I presume
not—oh! I shudder at the thought!

Wife.

Don’t tantalize me no longer—I will not bear
any more of your freedom—pray what do you mean by
coming out at “both ends?”—I like no such coarse phrazes:
if I had fifty ends, my modesty should forbid any thing
from coming out of either—I know how to behave myself,
and keep all ends safe.—Let us be going quickly.

Sim.

Gang along, with the devil to you.—Curse my
fate, to be yok’d to an old fool of a wife, and scampering
after a herd of runaway cowards.

Sol.

Ha, ha, ha,—yankee doodle forever—I wish
Lord North was here, to see his brave troops in their present
plight, running away with their breeches down—who
can help laughing at what a tom fool’s errand we have
been sent upon—we were sent here to ransack the country,
and hang up a parcel of leading fellows for the
crows to pick, and awe all others into peace and submissionC on C1v 18
—instead of this, in our first attempt we were drove
thro’ the country, like a pack of jack asses, nor stop’d running
’till we had got within Boston, where we had been fortify’d
for six months—here we were confin’d, reduc’d to
skeletons, our bones standing sentry thro’ our skins—we
ventur’d out once more to dispossess them of Bunker-hill,
we gain’d the ground, but if we are to purchase the
whole land of America at so dear a rate, the Lord have
mercy upon us.—We have receiv’d reinforcements, but
they only serv’d to fill up the vacancies made at Bunkerhill
frolic—large force of artillery, light horse, and the
devil knows what, have come to our assistance, but what
has been our luck? loss of men, of honor, of flesh, and to
crown the whole, are now running away, as fast as we
can scamper.

Sol.

A pretty story this is in the British annals—an everlasting
disgrace will attend the transactions in America.—
Our best generals, with a force of artillery, sufficient one
would think, to storm the regions of Belzebub—the
most experienced troops his Majesty has; a capital navy;
yet, with all this force, our generals dare not peep over
the entrenchments—are confin’d within three miles of
garrison, writing and acting comedies—dismantling meeting
houses to exercise their horses, to prevent their having
the scurvy—our troops hag’d and famish’d, for want of refreshments
—our navy lying at anchor, while the privateers
are depriving us of our supplies.—“Misterious!
unexampled! incomprehensible!”—Disgrace too
great for the spirit of Britons!—Not an action have we
done, that has been any way to our honor or profit—it is
true, we have set a few towns on fire, but like champions,
took care to go where there was not even a pistol for
defence.

Sol.

Nothing can be more diverting, than to see the
town in its present situation—all is uproar and confusion—
carts, trucks, wheel barrows, hand barrows, coaches, chaise,
are driving as if the very devil was after them. Our generals
look as wild as stags, when pursu’d by the hounds;
they are startled at every noise; they think the rebels are C2r 19
are just upon them.—Orders are given for blocking up the
streets, that the rebels may break their shins, if they pursue
us—we have also a parcel of stuff’d images, looking
like devils behind the pope, to be fix’d up as senteries; a
fit emblem of ourselves—Burgoyne could not have contriv’d
a prettier satyr—our ambuseirs are fill’d with wooden
guns; d――m such wooden-headed commanders—to
crown the whole, they should have had an effigy with a
barber’s block-head, as engineer.—Oh Briton! your disgrace
makes my very blood dance the hornpipe.—The
poor yankee refugees, run backwards and forwards, like
a parcel of cats let out of a bag—I would give half my
pay, that some droll blade was here to describe the ludicrous
scenery.

Sol.

The beauty of the whole is aboard the ships—the
yankee refugees with their wives, cut a most ridiculous
figure—vomiting, crying, cooking, eating, all in a heap.—I
was ready to burst my sides in laughing, to see the ladies
scampering into the vessels, tumbling one over another,
showing their legs, &c.—One fellow in his hurry, pitch’d
over board, and was kind enough to remain there—the
whole scene was sufficient to raise the risibles of the crying
philosopher—in short, words cannot describe it; they
stow like a litter of pigs, or like a young brood of spaniels;
they even spew in one another’s mouths.

Women.

Good enough for them, they have brought
it upon themselves; they had better have minded their
farms, not have run here to be a ridicule to both parties.
—If I had a good farm, I would see government to
the devil, before they should catch me here, to be froz’d,
famish’d, ridicul’d—curse them and their spiritless protectors,
and let’s conclude with huzzas for America.