boring farmers clustered around the farm-wagons which had brought them and their household gear to these unwonted scenes, where they sat, startled by the present, and appalled at the prospects of the future. On the verge, where the glow and the shadow met, might be seen herds of the captured cattle, for a moment standing with their great horns and eager eyes thrust forward into the light, and anon, frightened by some of these unfamiliar sights and sounds, sweeping away, as with the rush of a troop of cavalry, into the darkness.

When, to these weird scenes, is added the gloom which that night had fallen upon our country's hopes, the apprehension of the sudden night-assault, or of the onset of the victorious foe upon the morrow, the maddening thought that scarcely a mile away, upon the hills, lay two thousand of their countrymen, tortured with stiffening wounds or silent in death-we can easily picture to ourselves the horrors which then clustered around the spot upon which now stand the edifices of a great and prosperous city.

Even up to the night of the twenty-seventh of August, the general officers of the American army clung to the unhappy delusion that it was still possible to defend New York; and, as its possession could not be maintained without the occupation of Brooklyn, Washington indulged their hopes, or perhaps submitted to that overruling of his judgment, which the undetermined powers of his command at the time compelled. This decision was attended with less danger, as the movements of the enemy's fleet and army had convinced the Commander-in-chief, at eight o'clock, that no immediate assault was intended. To

decide for the enemy, almost in advance of the consciousness by him of his own intentions, is the peculiar power of a great General; and on this occasion Washington justified that appellation, by acting upon his anticipation of the enemy's movements as confidently as if he had been present at their council. To his calm judgment it was clear that Lord Howe would never risk the safety of his fleet in passing the heavy shore-batteries; nor would the General, his brother, with the carnage of Charlestown heights still present in his memory, shatter his splendid army by hurling it on a paltry breastwork, which could be so certainly and safely taken by regular approaches. Everything combined to convince Washington that the blow was suspended, and would not immediately fall. At night the fleet was still at anchor, without exhibiting any tokens of a movement, the possibility of which was indeed precluded by the unvarying direction of the wind. All the wide semicircle of hills glowed with the campfires of the enemy's land forces, and all signs of preparation for an assault had ceased. After the most careful preparations to resist a night attack, Washington at length submitted the fate of his army to the issue of a battle in which it should stand behind its entrenchments, and so awaited the fortunes of the morrow.

Among the incidents of this night, one which tradition has preserved is worthy of narration, although history has not deigned to record it, as it is associated with the brave defense of an isolated position. On the narrow lane which skirted the shore of Gowanus bay, near where Third avenue is intersected by Twenty-third street, yet stands the house of Wynant Bennet, its walls scarred and

indented by the grape-shot fired during this night from British or Hessian guns. From the lips of the then proprietor, the story of its occupation and defense, narrated to members of his family still living, is derived. Mr. Bennet, and some of his whig neighbors, had participated in the sanguinary conflict which raged around his dwelling; and, from his knowledge of the peculiar advantages of the vicinity for defense, may have suggested its occupation by a portion of Stirling's troops.

Although we cannot learn without regret that the names of those brave Long Island farmers, who fought for home and country in the battle which raged along their pleasant farms, have not come down to us, we are still glad to find undoubted evidence that some of them were faithful, where treason was safety.

The position of Wynant Bennet's house, in conjunction with the adjacent knoll and creek, gave it the character of a formidable redoubt; as the sand-banks and thickets could not be battered down by cannon shot, and the house was below the range of the batteries. It stood about fifty yards from the bay, in one of those sheltered nooks at the foot of the hills, in which our Dutch farmers loved so well to nestle their dwellings. Half that distance from its door, toward the south, the tide flowed through a narrow creek, to a bog, which extended in a south-easterly direction for a hundred yards beyond the house. On a slight bridge, the road to the Narrows crossed this little bayou, and wound in a sharp curve over a sand-hill or bluff, called Bluckie's Barracks. Hidden between the sides of a deep cut in the hill, the road, winding along its eastern face, was completely obscured from the view of

the enemy advancing from the south, and enabled the American riflemen, under Col. Atlee, to occupy it with great annoyance to the British, and almost perfect security to themselves. Added to these favorable features for a defensive position, the bluff jutted out so far into the bay as to be well protected by its waters, and was covered with a tangled forest, which aided in the concealment and protection of its defenders. The crushing of Stirling's left and centre on the hills, left this point so far to the left of Gen. Grant's force, that it was doubtless considered by its officers unnecessary to risk the loss of such numbers of their men as must have fallen in assaulting the position, which was scarcely less formidable in its defenses, than insignificant by its isolation. By adopting a different policy the Americans lost the battle of Germantown, in checking their pursuit of a flying foe, to make a useless assault on Chew's house, under a murderous fire from the squad of infantry, who, in their flight, had found protection within its walls.

During the conflict between Stirling and Grant in the morning, the sharp fire of Atlee's and Kichline's riflemen, stationed here, had more than once turned back the advancing enemy. As the dense files of the detachments from Grant's division moved up the narrow winding road, the sharp crack of the American rifles would burst

'Mr. Garret Bergen, an aged resident of Gowanus, who died a few years since, was accustomed to narrate an incident that occurred during the battle, of which he was a witness. The fire of the American riflemen had become so deadly, that a British sub-officer rushed into the farm-house in a panic of fear, declaring that he would not remain on the field exposed to certain death, from a hidden foe who picked off all the officers.- Statement by the late John G. Bergen.