Sunday, 18 June.
The day--perhaps the decisive day--is come, on which the fate of America
depends. My bursting heart must find vent at my pen. I have just heard
that our dear friend, Dr. Warren, is no more, but fell gloriously
fighting for his country; saying, Better to die honorably in the field,
than ignominiously hang upon the gallows. Great is our loss. He has
distinguished himself in every engagement, by his courage and fortitude,
by animating the soldiers, and leading them on by his own example. A
particular account of these dreadful, but I hope glorious days, will be
transmitted you, no doubt, in the exactest manner.
"The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong; but the God
of Israel is He that giveth strength and power unto his people. Trust in
him at all times, ye people, pour out your hearts before him; God is a
refuge for us." Charlestown is laid in ashes. The battle began upon our
intrenchments upon Bunker's Hill, Saturday morning about three o'clock,
and has not ceased yet, and it is now three o'clock Sabbath afternoon.
It is expected they will come out over the Neck to-night, and a dreadful
battle must ensue. Almighty God, cover the heads of our countrymen, and
be a shield to our dear friends! How many have fallen, we know not. The
constant roar of the cannon is so distressing that we cannot eat, drink,
or sleep. May we be supported and sustained in the dreadful conflict. I
shall tarry here till it is thought unsafe by my friends, and then I
have secured myself a retreat at your brother's, who has kindly offered
me part of his house. I cannot compose myself to write any further at
present. I will add more as I hear further.
Tuesday Afternoon.
I have been so much agitated, that I have not been able to write since
Sabbath day. When I say that ten thousand reports are passing, vague and
uncertain as the wind, I believe I speak the truth. I am not able to
give you any authentic account of last Saturday, but you will not be
destitute of intelligence. Colonel Palmer has just sent me word that he
has an opportunity of conveyance. Incorrect as this scrawl will be, it
shall go. I ardently pray that you may be supported through the arduous
task you have before you. I wish I could contradict the report of the
Dr.'s death; but it is a lamentable truth, and the tears of multitudes
pay tribute to his memory; those favorite lines of Collins continually
sound in my ears:--
"How sleep the brave," etc.
I must close, as the Deacon waits. I have not pretended to be particular
with regard to what I have heard, because I know you will collect better
intelligence. The spirits of the people are very good; the loss of
Charlestown affects them no more than a drop in the bucket.