United States -- History -- War of 1812 -- Personal narratives
We took up our ground on the left bank of the Chippawa, in the hope that
we would be attacked in that strong position; but nothing was further
from the intention of the enemy than such a flagrant absurdity. They,
from time to time, sent small parties to look at us; and there was some
very distant skirmishing, which proved very harmless amusement; but they
withdrew at last, and we were ordered into winter quarters.
Our regiment, with the 100th, took up their quarters at Queenston, where
we were soon strengthened by the recovered wounded and sick from the
different hospitals. We were particularly happy in a commanding officer.
The then young and handsome Marquis of Tweeddale, who was Lieutenant
Colonel of the 100th, commanded our brigade: he had been educated in a
good school, under the "Great Duke;" and, like his master, with an
unceasing regard to the essentials of the service, he had a most
sovereign contempt for those adventitious parts of it, which weaker
minds are apt to consider as of the highest importance. Should his
lordship, in the present high and responsible situation which he
occupies, have an opportunity of displaying his talents, I am much
deceived if he will not add one more to the numerous band of soldiers
who have raised their own and their country's name in the fields of
Hindostan; therefore, God send him a good _war_! I have no great faith
in him as a politician: he is too honest a man!
But whatever he may be, as a soldier or a statesman, he was a wretched
bad patient; for he was wounded, in a way that I had every fear would
result in a permanent lameness; and nothing could save him but rest. I
recommended him, therefore, to spend most of his time on a bed--for
sofas were rather scarce in Queenston at that time;--but he persisted in
riding a pony, with a crutch over his shoulder. Whether his mode of
management has induced lameness or not, I do not know, for I have never
seen him since; but if he is lame, it is no fault of mine.
Queenston, though in ruins, having, like all the rest of the frontier,
been wantonly destroyed by the enemy, was then, as it is now, a very
prettily-situated village; and the rest our men obtained, after their
severe fatigues, began to have a most salutary effect upon them, so, as
my senior colleague had recovered to such an extent as to attend to the
diminished duties of the regimental hospital there, I was despatched to
York--now Toronto--to take charge of about thirty of my own men, who
were in general hospital in that garrison.
Toronto was then a dirty straggling village, containing about sixty
houses. The church--the only one--was converted into a general hospital,
and I formed my lodge in the wing of the Parliament buildings, which had
escaped, when the Americans had burnt the rest of that fabric.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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