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1815.] THE AUTHOR'S EARLY LIFE. xvii 



In this dreary abode we found above eight thousand Frenchmen, and 

 about half that number of Americans, all prisoners of war. Here we 

 received every indulgence that could be expected under such circum- 

 stances ; and though we had no more than the customary " prisoner's 

 allowance" of food, what we had was good and wholesome. We en- 

 joyed the privilege of an excellent market, at the regular prices of the 

 country, where every thing offered for sale was obliged to be of the 

 best kind. No imposition was allowed to be practised on the prisoners 

 by the English farmers. We had our own cooks, and our own nurses 

 in the hospital ; and the doctor was one of the best and most humane 

 of men. His name was M'Graw, and he was justly beloved and re- 

 spected by every American in Dartmoor prison. We had the liberty 

 of a large yard from daylight until dark ; and a certain number of 

 the prisoners were each day permitted to go outside the walls to work, 

 for which they were regularly paid by the captain of the prison. 

 Within the walls we amused ourselves with schools, dramatic per- 

 formances, and a variety of games and plays. In fact, I cannot con- 

 scientiously accuse the British of any inhumanity towards the Ameri- 

 can prisoners during all my detention of thirty-one months in St. John's 

 and at Dartmoor, excepting the atrocious massacre at the latter place 

 in April, 1815, after the peace. The history of this affair is familiar 

 to every reader. The American prisoners were fired upon, by order 

 of the infamous Capt. Shortland, when eight were killed, and thirty- 

 seven wounded ! 



More than seventeen years have passed away since that horrid 

 event occurred, and the vital current, of course, flows more calmly 

 through my veins ; it is also not always right to probe a healing wound : 

 yet I cannot, at this moment, refer to the affair without experiencing 

 an unpleasant glow of indignation which it is difficult to suppress. It 

 is the feeling of an unatoned injury rankling in my bosom. Had I 

 been one of the wounded, I could not be more sensitive on the subject. 

 I feel it as an American. It is true that some sort of an investigation 

 took place — a kind of mock trial ; but it resulted in nothing satisfac- 

 tory to the friends of the deceased, or the surviving wounded invalids, 

 the most of whom will bear the marks of their wrongs to the grave. 



Why was not satisfaction demanded for this brutal outrage ? The 

 humblest American citizen is as much entitled to the protection of his 

 government as the most elevated. Surely they who fight the battles 

 of their country, and stand ready to shed their blood freely as water 

 to sustain her honour and her rights, ought not to be wantonly 

 maltreated without receiving some adequate atonement from the 

 assassins. 



About the 1st of May, 1815, the joyful assurance of our immediate 

 release was received in Dartmoor prison, and a few days afterward 

 we were marched to Plymouth, where we embarked for the land of 

 liberty, our country, and our homes. In the latter part of June I once 

 more stepped upon American ground, with a heart full of gratitude to 

 our heavenly Father for having again redeemed me from captivity, 

 supported me through numerous dangers and difficulties, and finally 

 restored me to the land of my nativity in safety and in health. We 



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