which were to assemble on the banks of the Delaware, on the night of the 25th of December. One of these divisions, led by General Irvine, was directed to cross the Delaware at the Trenton ferry, and secure the bridge below the town, so as to prevent the escape of any part of the enemy by that road. Another division, led by General Cadwallader, was to cross over at Bristol, and carry the post at Burlington. The third, which was the principal division, and consisted of about 2400 Continental troops, commanded by General Washington in person, was to cross at M'Konkey's ferry, about nine miles above Trenton, and to march against the enemy posted at that town. The night fixed on for the enterprise was severly cold. A storm of snow, mingled with hail and rain, fell in great quantities; and so much ice was made in the river, that the artillery could not be got over until three o'clock; and before the troops could take up their line of march it was nearly four. The general, who had hoped to throw them all over by twelve o'clock, now despaired of surprising the town; but knowing that he could not repass the river without being discovered and harassed, he determined, at all events, to push forward. He accordingly formed his detachment into two divisions, one of which was to march by the lower or river road, the other, by the upper or Pennington road. As the distance to Trenton by these two roads was nearly the same, the general, supposing that his two divisions would arrive at the place of destination about the same time, ordered each of them, immediately on forcing the outguards, to push directly into the town, that they might charge the enemy before they had time to form. The upper division, accompanied by the general himself, arrived at the enemy's advanced post exactly at eight o'clock, and immediately drove in the outguards. In three minutes, a firing from the division that had taken the river road, gave notice to the general of its arrival. Colonel Rahil, a very gallant Hessian officer, who commanded in Trenton, soon formed his main body, to meet the assailants; but at the commencement of the action he received a mortal wound. His troops, at once confused and hard pressed, and having already lost their artillery, attempted to file off by a road on the right, leading to Princeton; but General Washington perceiving their intention, threw a body of troops in their front, which intercepted and assailed them. Finding themselves surrounded, they laid down their arms. About 20 of the enemy were killed; and 909, including officers, surrendered themselves prisoners of war. The number of prisoners was soon increased to about 1000, by the additional capture of those who had concealed themselves in houses. Six field pieces, and a 1000 stand of small arms, were also taken. Of the Americans, two privates only were killed; two were frozen to death; one officer and three or four privates were wounded. General Irvine being prevented by the ice from crossing the Delaware, the lower road toward Bordentown remained open: and about 500 of the enemy, stationed in the lower end of Trenton, crossing over the bridge in the commencement of the action, marched down the river to Bordentown. General Cadwallader was prevented by the same cause from attacking the post at Burlington. This well-judged and successful enterprise, revived the depressed spirits of the colonists, and produced an immediate and happy effect in recruiting the American army.

THE MURDER OF THE REV. JAMES CALDWELL. The next summer, in June, Knyphausen made his sudden and apparently objectless inroad into New Jersey. On the night of the 24th, Mr. Caldwell slept

in his own house, but was wakened early in the morning by the news of the approach of the enemy. Mounting his horse in haste, he started for headquarters with the information. He had proceeded but a short distance, however, when he began to have serious fears for his wife and family that he had left behind. The former, when she bade him good-bye, told him that she had no apprehensions for her own safety, for the enemy, she said, would not harm her and her little children. He had often left them in a similar way before, and always found them safe on his return, but now he was oppressed with unusual anxiety, and, after striving in vain to shake it off, turnéd his horse and galloped back. As he rode up to the door, his wife came out to inquire what he wanted. He told her that he wished her and the children to accompany him to camp, for he felt very uneasy about leaving them behind. But she, knowing they would encumber his movements, smiled at his fears, saying there was no danger at all, and declined entirely to leave the house. In the meantime she went in and brought from the breakfast table a warm cup of coffee. While he sat on his horse drinking it, the enemy came in sight. Handing back the cup, and flinging her a hasty farewell, and commending her to the care and mercy of the God in whom they both trusted, he struck his spurs into his horse and dashed away.

He had not been gone long before she had cause to regret that she had not yielded to his entreaties, for columns of smoke rising in the distance—the screams of terrified women and children running through the streets, told her that the enemy was on a raid, and murder and devastation were marking their passage. She saw at once that she was surrounded with deadly perils, but calm as became the wife of a hero as well as clergyman, she took her infant and retired into a private room to commit herself and children in prayer to God. Arising from her devotions, she sat down upon the bed, and was pondering on her desolate condition, when the maid, who had accompanied her with the other children, stepped to the window to look out. As she did so, she saw a "red coat" jump over the fence into the yard. Alarmed, she turned quickly and told Mrs. Caldwell. The latter knew at once that evil was intended her, and arose from the bed either to watch the man's actions or to pass out of the room, when the villain caught a glimpse of her through the window. He knew her at a glance, and, having come on purpose to kill her, he raised his musket and fired at her through the window, when she fell amid her terrified children, pierced by two balls. In the midst of the alarm and confusion that followed, the torch was applied to the house, and soon the little parsonage was wrapped in flames. It was with great difficulty that some of the neighbors, whom the maid informed of the murder, were enabled to drag the body out of the burning building. But, having accomplished this, they were compelled to flee, leaving it exposed in the hot sun in the public street, where it lay for hours with no one humane enough to throw a covering over the pale and ghastly face. At length some of her friends obtained permission from the enemy to remove it into the only house left standing near by.

Mr. Caldwell was at the "Short Hills," with the army, while this murderous scene was being enacted at his quiet home. That evening passing by chance two soldiers who were talking in whispers, he heard the name of "Mrs. Caldwell" repeated two or three times. Suspecting at once that something was wrong, he asked them what they were talking about-if anything had happened to Mrs. Caldwell. They at first hesitated to reply, unwilling to break to him the painful intelligence, but he besought them so earnestly to let him know the worst that

they finally told him all. The good man staggered like a smitten ox under the sudden blow, and turned pale as death. Rallying, however, he murmured a broken prayer and turned away to weep alone. That was a painful night to the noble patriot, for not only did he mourn deeply over the tragical end of his wife, whom he loved tenderly, but he was filled with apprehension respecting his orphaned children, one of whom was an infant-now in possession of the enemy. In the morning he procured a flag of truce and went over to "Connecticut Farms.” The quiet little village was a heap of smoking ruins, with only here and there a solitary building standing as monuments to mark the desolation. In one of these lay the lifeless body of his wife, and in an adjoining apartment were grouped his weeping children.

The enemy, after burning Connecticut Farms, kept on towards Springfield, with the intention of committing the same barbarous crueltics there. Mr. Caldwell, after seeing his wife buried and his children placed in the care of one of his parishioners, hastened forward to join the army. At Springfield, a sharp engagement took place between the enemy and the American troops, and though the former were compelled to beat a hasty retreat, it was not till they had burned the village to the ground. Mr. Caldwell was in the hottest of the fight, and seeing the fire of one of the companies slackening for want of wadding, he galloped to the Presbyterian meeting house near by, and, rushing in, ran from pew to pew, filling his arms with hymn books. Hastening back with these into the battle, he scattered them about in every direction, saying, as he pitched one here and another there, "Now, put Watts into them, boys." With a laugh and a cheer, they pulled out the leaves, and ramming home the charges did give the British Watts with a will.

The next year this patriotic, gifted man met the tragical fate of his wife, and sealed his devotion to his country with his blood.

New Jersey remained comparatively tranquil after the raid of Knyphausen, and flags of truce were constantly passing to and fro to New York, and only soldiers enough were left in the State to act as sentinels at main points. At this time there lived in New York a family by the name of Murray, who had relatives residing in Elizabethtown, and who were much beloved by the people in the vicinity for their kindness to Jersey prisoners confined in the city. One of the family, Miss Murray, wishing to visit Elizabethtown, came to Elizabethtown Point on the 24th of November, under a flag of truce. Mr. Caldwell went down in a carriage to meet her, and accompany her to the town. The details of the events that followed, I will let Dr. Murray tell in his own language. "A sentry was kept up at that time at the fort. Tying his horse outside the sentinel, Mr. Caldwell proceeded to the wharf, and taking with him Miss Murray, placed her in his carriage, and then returned to the boat for a small bundle that belonged to her. Thus he passed three times the man who was keeping guard. small package he was returning a second time to his carriage, when the sentinel ordered him to stop, thinking, probably, that there was something contraband in the bundle. He replied that the bundle belonged to the young lady in his carriage. The sentinel said that it must be examined. Mr. Caldwell turned quickly about to carry it back to the boat, that it might be opened there, when the fatal ball struck him. The captain of the guard, hearing the report of a gun, looked around, and saw Mr. Caldwell staggering before him. He ran and caught him in his arms and laid him on the ground, and without speaking a word he almost instantly expired, the ball having passed through his heart.

With a

“The man who shot him was James Morgan, belonging to the Jersey militiaan Irishman by birth, and a man of the most debased and profligate character. He was always drunk when he could be; and liquor turned him into a savage. His family resided near a well in Elizabethtown, into which a child of his fell one day and was drowned. When he returned, he found his child dead, and taking it by the arms he beat the broken-hearted mother with the dead body of her own child until her cries brought some of the neighbors to her rescue.

Whether Morgan was on duty as a sentinel when he shot Caldwell is at least questionable. It is said that on his trial it was proved that he had just been relieved. Different motives are assigned for the murder. Some say that Morgan was angry because he had not received his regular wages, and, inasmuch as Caldwell was commissary, supposed "he was responsible for the neglect ; " others, again, say that he was bribed by the British, or Tories. Whatever the motives might have been that influenced him, he was, after a fair trial, convicted of murder, and hung the next January. The body of Mr. Caldwell was placed on some straw in the bottom of a wagon, and taken up to town, and the next Tuesday buried.

A MUTINY IN THE CONTINENTAL ARMY.

The situation of General Washington was often, during the war, embarrassing, for want of proper supplics for the army. It was peculiarly so while at Morristown, in 1780, where he had encamped during the winter. The cold was uncommonly severe, and the army suffered extremely. The following account of the state of the American army is taken from "Grimshaw's History of the United States: "

"The distress suffered by the American army did not arrive at its highest pitch until the present season. The officers of the Jersey line now addressed a memorial to their State Legislature, complaining, that four months' pay for a private would not procure for his family a single bushel of wheat; that the pay of a colonel would not purchase oats for his horse; and that a common laborer received four times as much as an American officer. They urged, that unless an immediate remedy was provided, the total dissolution of their line was inevitable; and concluded by saying, that their pay should be realized, either by Mexican dollars, or something equivalent. Nor was the insufficiency of their support the only motive to complaint. Other causes of discontent prevailed. The original idea of a continental army, to be raised, paid, and regulated upon an equal and uniform principle, had been, in a great measure, exchanged for that of State establishments; a pernicious measure, partly originating from necessity, because State credit was not quite so much depreciated as continental. Some States, from their superior ability, furnished their troops not only with clothing, but with many articles of convenience. Others supplied them with mere necessaries; whilst a few, from their particular situation, could give little or perhaps nothing. The officers and men, in a routine of duty, daily intermixed and made compariThose who fared worse than others were dissatisfied with a service that allowed such injurious distinctions. Mutiny began to spread, and at length broke out among the soldiers at Fort Schuyler. Thirty-one privates of the garrison went off in a body. They were overtaken, and 13 of their number instantly killed. About the same time, two regiments of Connecticut troops mutinied, and got under arms, determined to return home, or gain subsistence by the bayonet.

sons.

Their officers reasoned with them, and used every argument that could interest their passions or their pride. They at first answered, 'Our sufferings are too great, we want present relief;' but military feelings were, in the end, triumphant ; after much expostulation, they returned to the encampment.

“It is natural to suppose that the British commander would not lose so favorable an opportunity of severing the discontented from their companions, and attracting them to his own standard. He circulated a printed paper in the American camp; tending to heighten the disorders by exaggeration, and create desertion by promises of bounty and .caresses. But, so great was the firmness of the soldiery, and so strong their attachment to their country, that on the arrival of only a scanty supply of meat, for their immediate subsistence, military duty was cheerfully performed, and the rolls were seldom dishonored by desertion.

"The necessities of the American army grew so pressing that Washington was constrained to call on the magistrates of the adjacent counties for specified quantities of provisions, to be supplied in a given number of days; and was compelled even to send out detachments to collect subsistence at the point of the bayonet. Even this expedient at length failed; the country in the vicinity of the army being soon exhausted. His situation was painfully embarrassing. The army looked to him for provisions; the inhabitants for protection. To supply the one, and not offend the other, seemed impossible. To preserve order and subordination, in an army of republicans, even when well fed, regularly paid, and comfortably clothed, is not an easy task; but to retain them in service, and subject them to the rules of discipline, when wanting not only the comforts but often the necessaries of life, requires such address and abilities as are rarely found in human nature. These were, however, combined in Washington. He not only kept his army in the field, but opposed those difficulties with so much discretion as to command the approbation of both soldiers and people.

"To obviate these evils, Congress sent a committee of its own members to the encampment of the main army. They confirmed the representations previously made of the distresses and the disorders arising from commissarial mismanagement, which everywhere prevailed. In particular, they stated that the main army was unpaid for five months; that it seldom had more than six days' provision in advance; and was on different occasions, for several successive days, without meat; that the horses were destitute of forage; that the medical department had no sugar, tea, chocolate, wine, or spirituous liquors of any kind; that every department was without money and without credit; and that the patience of the soldiers, worn down by the pressure of complicated sufferings, was on the point of being exhausted.

'Misfortunes, from every quarter, were at this time pouring in upon the United States. But they seemed to rise in the midst of their distresses, and gain strength from the pressure of calamities. When Congress could obtain neither money nor credit for the subsistence of their army, the inhabitants of Philadelphia gave $300,000 to procure a supply of necessary provisions for the suffering troops; and the ladies of that city, at the same time, contributed largely to their immediate relief. Their example was generally followed. The patriotic flame which blazed forth in the beginning of the war was rekindled. The different States were ardently excited; and it was arranged that the regular army should be raised to 35,000 effective men.”