impetuosity. The light infantry, chasseurs, grenadiers, and guards threw themselves with such fury into the midst of the republican battalions, that they were forced to give way. Their left flank was first thrown into confusion, but the rout soon became general. The vanquished fled into the woods in their rear; the victors pursued, and advanced by the great road towards Dilworth. On the first fire of the artillery, Washington, having no doubt of what was passing, had pushed forward the reserve to the succor of Sullivan. But this corps, on approaching the field of battle, fell in with the flying soldiers of Sullivan and perceived that no hope remained of retrieving the fortune of the day. General Greene, by a judicious manœuvre, opened his ranks to receive the fugitives, and after their passage having closed them anew, he retired in good order; checking the pursuit of the enemy by a continual fire of the artillery which covered his rear. Having come to a defile, covered on both sides by the woods, he drew up his men there, and again faced the enemy. His corps was composed of Virginians and Pennsylvanians; they defended themselves with gallantry; the former especially, commanded by Colonel Stephens, made a heroic stand.

Knyphausen finding the Americans to be fully engaged on their right, and observing that the corps opposed to him at Chadsford was enfeebled by the troops which had been detached to the succor of Sullivan, began to make dispositions for crossing the river in reality. The passage at Chadsford was defended by an intrenchment and battery. The republicans stood firm at first; but upon intelligence of the defeat of their right, and seeing some of the British troops who had penetrated through the woods, come out upon their flank, they retired in disorder, abandoning their artillery and munitions to the German general. In their retreat, or rather flight, they passed behind the position of General Greene, who still defended himself, and was the last to quit the field of battle. Finally, it being already dark, after a long and obstinate conflict, he also retired. The whole army retreated that night to Chester, and the day following to Philadelphia. There the fugitives arrived incessantly, having effected their escape through by-ways and circuitous routes. The victors passed the night on the field of battle. If darkness had not arrived seasonably, it is very probable that the whole American army would have been destroyed. The loss of the republicans was computed at about 300 killed, 600 wounded, and near 400 taken prisoners. They also lost ten field-pieces and a howitzer. The loss in the royal army was not in proportion, being something under 500, of which the slain did not amount to one-fifth.

ADAM POE'S FIGHT WITH THE INDIANS.

A REMINISCENCE OF THE EARLY HISTORY OF PITTSBURG.

About the year 1782, six or seven Wyandotte Indians crossed over to the south side of the Ohio River, 50 miles below Pittsburg, and in their hostile excursions among our early settlers killed an old man, whom they found alone in one of the houses which they plundered. The news soon spread among the white people, seven or eight of whom seized their rifles and pursued the marauders. In this party were two brothers named Adam and Andrew Poe, strong and active men, and much respected in the settlement. The Indians had frequently been over before, had sometimes penetrated 20 miles into the country, and had always succeeded in recrossing the river without being overtaken by our people. The Poes and their companions were, therefore, particularly anxious not to let them escape

on this occasion. They pursued them all night, and in the morning found themselves, as they expected, upon the right track. The Indians could now be easily followed by the traces left upon the dew. The print of one very large foot was seen, and it was thus known that a famous Indian of uncommon size and strength must be of the party. The track led to the river. Our people followed it directly, Adam Poe excepted, who feared that they might be taken by surprise, and broke off from the rest to go along on the edge of the bank, under the cover of trees and bushes, and to fall upon the savages suddenly that he might get them between his own fire and that of his companions. At the point where he suspected they were, he saw the rafts, which they were accustomed to push before them when they swam the river, and on which they placed their blankets, tomahawks, and guns. The Indians themselves he could not see, and was obliged to go partly down the bank to get a shot at them. As he descended, with his rifle cocked, he discovered two, the celebrated large Indian and a smaller one, separated from the others, holding their rifles also cocked in their hands. He took aim at the large one, but his rifle snapped without giving the intended fire. The Indians turned instantly at the sound. Poe was too near them to retreat, and had not time to cock and take aim again. Suddenly he leaped down upon them, and caught the large Indian by the clothes on his breast, and the small one by throwing an arm round his neck. They all fell together, but Poe was uppermost. While he was struggling to keep down the large Indian, the small one, at a word spoken by his fellow savage, slipped his neck out of Poe's embrace, and ran to the raft for a tomahawk. The large Indian at this moment threw his arms about Poe's body, and held him fast that the other might come and kill him. Poe watched the approach and the descending arm of the small Indian so well that at the instant of the intended stroke he raised his foot, and by a vigorous and skilful blow knocked the tomahawk from the assailant's hand. At this the large Indian cried out with an exclamation of contempt for the small one. The latter, however, caught his tomahawk again, and approached more cautiously, waving his arm up and down with mock blows to deceive Poe as to the stroke which was intended to be real and fatal. Poe, however, was so vigilant and active that he averted the tomahawk from his head, and received it upon his wrist, with a considerable wound, deep enough to cripple, but not entirely to destroy the use of his hand. In this crisis of peril, he made a violent effort, and broke loose from the large Indian. He snatched a rifle and shot the small one through the breast as he ran up a third time with his lifted tomahawk. The large Indian was now on his feet, and, grasping Poe by the shoulder and the leg, hurled him in the air heels over head upon the shore. Poe instantly rose, and a new and more desperate struggle ensued. The bank was slippery, and they fell into the water, where each strove to drown the other. Their efforts were long and doubtful, each alternately under and half strangled, till Poe fortunately grasped, with his unwounded hand, the tuft of hair upon the scalp of the Indian, and forced his head into the water; this appeared to be decisive of his fate, for soon he manifested all the symptoms of a drowning man bewildered in the moment of death. Poe relaxed his hold, and discovered too late the stratagem. The Indian was instantly upon his feet again, and engaged anew in the fierce contest for life and victory. They were naturally carried further into the stream, and the current, becoming stronger, bore them beyond their depth. They were now compelled to loosen their hold upon each other, and to swim for mutual safety. Both sought the shore to seize a gun, but the Indian was the best swimmer, and gained it first.

Poe then turned immediately back into the water to avoid a greater danger, meaning to dive, if possible, to escape the fire. Fortunately for him, the Indian caught up the rifle which had been discharged into the breast of his smaller companion. At this critical juncture, Andrew, his brother, returned in haste, having left the party who had been in pursuit of the other Indians, and who had killed all but one of them, at the expense of three of their own lives. He heard that Adam was in great peril, and alone in the fight with two against him. One of our people, following not far in the rear of Andrew, mistook Adam in the water with his bloody hand for a wounded Indian, and fired a bullet into his shoulder. Adam cried out to his brother to kill the big Indian on the shore, but Andrew's gun had been discharged and was not again loaded. The contest was now between the savage and Andrew. Each labored to load his rifle first. The Indian, after putting in his powder, and hurrying his motions to force down the ball, drew out his ramrod with such violence as to throw it some yards into the water. While he ran to pick it up, Andrew gained an advantage, and shot the Indian just as he was raising his gun to his eye for a deadly aim. Andrew then jumped into the river to assist his wounded brother to the shore; but Adam, thinking more of carrying the big Indian home as a trophy than of his own wounds, urged Andrew to go back and prevent the struggling savage from rolling himself into the current and escaping. Andrew, however, was too solicitous for the fate of Adam to allow him to obey, and the Indian, jealous of his honor as a warrior even in death, and knowing well the intention of his white conquerors, succeeded in retaining life and action long enough to reach the current, by which his dead body was carried down beyond the chance of pursuit.

This native was the most distinguished among five celebrated brothers belonging to the royal family of the tribe of Wyandottes. Notwithstanding he was engaged in this predatory expedition, he was acknowledged by all to be peculiarly magnanimous for an Indian, and had contributed, more than any other individual, to preserve and extend the practice which was known to prevail in his tribe, that of not taking the lives of prisoners, and of not suffering them to be treated ill. This practice was an honorable distinction for the Wyandottes, as was well understood by the white people who were traders with the Indians, and by those of our early settlers and brethren who had been made prisoners in war. It was a common remark among them, "If we become the prisoners of the Wyandottes, we shall be fortunate." The death of this large Indian and of his four brothers, who were all in the party, was more deeply lamented by the tribe, as was afterward learned, than all the other losses sustained during the hostilities carried on between them and us. There was a universal, solemn, and distressing mourning. Adam Poe recovered from his wounds, and gave this account in person to James Morrison, Esq., from whom we have received it, and by whom we are assured that it is correct. The courage and enterprise, the suffering and fortitude, the decision and perseverance of the early settlers of this western country, by whose labors we are now so peaceful and happy, ought not to be forgotten, but may well be related from time to time to excite in us the spirit of similar virtues, and to teach us how to consider the slight privations which we are, or may be, called to meet. Gratitude is more appropriate to our condition than discontent.

THE State of Delaware, one of the original members of the Union, is situated between 38° 28' and 39° 50' N. latitude, and 75° and 75° 45′ W. longitude. It is bounded on the north by Pennsylvania, on the east by Delaware River and Bay (by which it is separated from New Jersey) and the Atlantic Ocean, and on the south and west by Maryland. It is about 96 miles long, from north to south, and 37 miles wide, from east to west.

TOPOGRAPHY.

The northern part of the State is a fine rolling country, healthy and beautiful; but the southern and central counties are low and generally sandy. The lower part of the State is occupied by a large cypress swamp. Just north of this swamp, is a slight elevation running north and south. It is occupied with swamps, in which rise the waters flowing into the Delaware Bay. This State and the eastern shore of Maryland, lying between the Delaware and Chesapeake bays, form a low peninsula, over which the salt air sweeps with but little to interrupt it.

The Delaware River, which washes the eastern shore of the State, has been described. It is the principal stream. The Brandywine, which enters the State from Pennsylvania, on the north, and flows into the Delaware at Wilmington, is a fine mill stream. Indian River, which flows into the Atlantic in the southern part of the State, is the largest stream lying wholly within the limits of Delaware. A num

ber of creeks flow into Delaware Bay and the Atlantic, and the Nanticoke and Choptank rivers of Maryland rise in the southwestern part of the State.

Delaware Bay is a large arm of the sea, separating the States of Delaware and New Jersey. It is 13 miles wide at its mouth. Cape Henlopen, on the southwestern side, is in Delaware; and Cape May, on the northeast side, in New Jersey. The bay is 60 miles long, from the capes to the mouth of the Delaware River, and is 25 miles wide at its broadest part. It is considerably obstructed with shoals, which make its navigation difficult in many places. It offers the only harbor between New York and the Chesapeake; and for the purpose of protecting it, the Government has erected, at a cost of over $2,000,000, a magnificent break water consisting of two sides, extending out from the Delaware shore at Cape Henlopen. The upper side protects the harbor thus formed from floating ice, and the lower side guards it from the violence of the waves of the sea. The breakwater is built of massive stone, and is one of the best in the world.

MINERALS.

Delaware is almost without mineral resources. Bog iron ore exists in the southern swamps; and a fine white sand, used in making glass, is found near the head of Delaware Bay. Large quantities of it are shipped to New England.

CLIMATE.

The sea breeze, which sweeps over the entire State, renders the climate mild and pleasant, as a general rule; but the winters are sometimes severe and trying. The southern and central portions are afflicted with ague and fever, and are consequently unhealthy.

SOIL AND PRODUCTIONS.

The soil in the southern portion of the State is sandy; in the centre it consists of a mixture of clay and sand; and in the northern part it is a fine, fertile loam. Since the census of 1860, the State has made great progress in agriculture, and the cultivation of fruit has increased beyond the most sanguine expectations. The abolition of slavery has drawn into the State a considerable emigration of small farmers from New England, and it is becoming one of the most productive sections of the Union. The peach crop is rarely a failure in