Aug. 16.--At day light the firing recommenced upon the fort, where was stationed the 4th regiment. Not a gun was fired from this place in return. Five men were killed and wounded in the fort, where the Gen. and some citizens from the town had repaired. At sunrise the Indians appeared in the woods back of the town, while the British were seen landing from the Queen Charlotte at Spring Wells, three miles below us. About 8 o'clock they began to move towards us in close column. It was now that we every moment expected the orders of the Gen. to march out and commence the battle which was to decide the fate of this army.--The long wished for moment had now arrived; the eyes of the soldiers of the 4th regiment were turned towards their brave Commander, Col. Miller, and seemed to express the ardent wishes of the men for _him_ to give the word and lead the way. The militia were posted outside of the fort, behind a line of pickets. Two 24 pounders loaded with grape shot were placed in a situation to sweep the advancing column of the enemy. The British troops advanced with a regular step, and in fine order. All was silent in the fort--"Not a discontent broke upon the ear--Not a look of cowardice met the eye." We listened in eager expectation, that each moment our ears would be saluted from the discharge of the 24 pounders. What was our surprise when we beheld the militia retreating towards the fort, and at the same time an American Officer on horseback riding towards the British column bearing a _white flag_, while another was placed on the parapet of the fort. A soldier attempted to knock it down with his musquet--an officer stepped up and commanded him to desist--"There sir," says the soldier, pointing to the American colors, then waving on the flag-staff--"_There is the flag I choose to fight under!_"--Such was the spirit which animated the whole body of the troops. A British officer rode up to the fort, and in thirty minutes afterwards a capitulation was signed. The Adjutant soon after came in and informed the troops that we must consider ourselves prisoners of war to His Britannic Majesty's forces under Gen. Brock. Such curses and imprecations as were now uttered by the soldiers upon the head of our General, were perhaps never before made use in any army.--"_Treachery_"--"_We are sold_"--was the cry throughout. We were ordered to pack up our effects as soon as possible. Some officers entered the loft of the store house, where they found a few articles of clothing, which was distributed among us. The militia had been crowded into the fort which now was nearly filled with troops, in great disorder.