"But, from this shameful sight, turn again to the land of free schools; to Bunker's Hill. There, behind a poor ditch of half a night's raising, you behold fifteen hundred militia-men waiting the approach of three thousand British regulars with a heavy train of artillery! With such odds against them, such fearful odds in numbers, discipline, arms, and martial fame, will they not shrink from the contest, and, like their southern friends, jump up and run! Oh no; to a man they have been taught to read; to a man they have been instructed to KNOW, and dearer than life to prize, the blessings of FREEDOM. Their bodies are lying behind ditches, but their thoughts are on the wing, darting through eternity. The warning voice of God still rings in their ears. The hated forms of proud merciless kings pass before their eyes. They look back to the days of old, and strengthen themselves as they think what their gallant forefathers dared for LIBERTY and for THEM. They looked forward to their own dear children, and yearn over the unoffending millions, now, in tearful eyes, looking up to them for protection. And shall this infinite host of deathless beings, created in God's own image, and capable by VIRTUE and EQUAL LAWS, of endless progression in glory and happiness; shall they be arrested in their high career, and from the freeborn sons of God, be degraded into the slaves of man? Maddening at the accursed thought, they grasp their avenging firelocks, and drawing their sights along the death-charged tubes, they long for the coming up of the British thousands. Three times the British thousands came up; and three times the dauntless yeomen, waiting their near approach, received them in storms of thunder and lightning that shivered their ranks, and heaped the field with their weltering carcasses.