Lieutenant-Colonel Duff, however, penetrated as far as a church on the right-hand side of the street in which his column had been directed to establish itself; but the strength of the barricadoed doors defied all attempts to force an entrance. His situation now became desperate; to remain stationary was to expose himself and his little band to certain massacre, unmitigated even by the being able to sell their lives dearly; to advance was nearly as pregnant with destruction; and even returning, independent of the repugnance every British officer feels to the very idea of retreat, was “as bad as to go on.” Lieutenant-Colonel Duff’s resolution was as prompt as the necessity was urgent; he made up his mind, on the instant, to hazard every thing while there was the most distant chance of success, and determined to push on; a determination which was received by his men with shouts, and seconded by them as if every individual soldier had felt himself personally responsible for the issue of the contest. With the few brave companions that survived, he succeeded in making his way into a cross street, and forcing open two houses, the doors of which were not so ponderous, or so well secured as those of the church: the houses, however, were not carried till after a severe struggle, in which all the men that defended them were put to death: and even when taken they afforded the captors but little shelter, being lower than the surrounding buildings, and, consequently, commanded on every side. At length, after a vain and murderous contest of four hours’ duration, but not until the last round of ammunition was expended, Lieutenant-Colonel Duff and his few remaining men were reduced to the necessity of surrendering prisoners of war.