The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
History
The Rangers; or, The Tory's Daughter: A Tale Illustrative of the Revolutionary History of Vermont and the Northern Campaign of 1777
Thompson, Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce)
Vermont -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Fiction
The scene of our story changes to the vicinity of the Hudson, to which
the eyes of millions were now turned as the theatre of approaching
events, on which hung, perhaps, the great issue of the American
revolution. Although both parties seemed to look upon the matter at
stake as one of immense magnitude, yet far different were the views
and feelings which, at this time, pervaded the two opposing armies.
The British, flushed by their successes, and confident in that strength
before which every opposing obstacle had thus far given way, were
looking down with little other than absolute contempt on the American
forces in their front, believing them wholly incapable, either from
numbers or courage, of opposing any serious resistance to their march,
when they chose to move forward. And here thus lay their proud and
infatuated chief for weeks, dreaming of coronets, frittering away the
time in feasting with his officers, and indulging himself and them in
all the follies which characterized their gay and licentious camp. On
the other hand, the Americans, deeply sensible of the consequence of
suffering their enemies to effect their contemplated junction at Albany,
were vigilant, active, and determined. Though firmly resolved to dispute
the way of the invader to the death when they must, they yet preferred,
for a while, the policy of embarrassing and impeding him, rather than
openly exposing themselves to his attacks. Whole brigades were therefore
employed in the work of destroying the bridges, blocking up the roads
with fallen trees, and putting every possible obstruction in the way of
his advance, so that his delay, where he now lay at Fort Ann, might be
protracted till a sufficient force could be gathered to meet him with a
more reasonable hope of success.
And every hour that hope waxed stronger and stronger. Every day brought
fresh accessions of strength to their self-devoted bands, and every gale
wafted to their gladdened ears the sounds of the warlike preparations of
an aroused and indignant people gathering from afar to the rescue; and
they began to breathe more freely while they thought, as with trembling
solicitude they still did, of the fearful meeting that must now soon
follow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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