flat on the other side of the stream a quarter of a mile in advance,
they were surprised and fiercely attacked by a large number of Indians,
who fell first upon the militia, and then with deadly power upon the
regulars. Great carnage ensued. The enemy, concealed in the woods,
poured a destructive fire upon the troops from almost every point. St.
Clair, unable to mount his horse, was carried about in a litter, and
gave his orders with discretion and the most perfect coolness. Nearly
all the officers and half the army were killed. For two hours and a half
the desperate contest raged. Finally St. Clair ordered a retreat. It at
once became a disorderly flight. The artillery, baggage, and many of the
wounded, were left behind. Many of the troops threw away their arms,
ammunition, and accoutrements. Some of the officers divested themselves
of their fusees, that their flight might not be impeded. The general was
mounted upon a lazy pack-horse, who could not be spurred into a gallop;
but, as the enemy did not pursue more than a mile or two, St. Clair and
the survivors of the battle escaped to Fort Jefferson, a distance of
twenty-five miles. The retreat was continued the next day toward Fort
Washington, where the shattered army arrived on the eighth. The entire
loss was estimated at six hundred and seventy-seven killed, including
thirty women, and two hundred and seventy-one wounded.

The late Richard Rush, of Philadelphia, has left on record the following
graphic account of the effect which the intelligence of St. Clair's
defeat had upon Washington. It was from an eye-witness:--

"An anecdote I derived from Colonel Lear," says Mr. Rush, "shortly
before his death in 1816, may here be related, showing the height to
which Washington's passion would rise, yet be controlled. It belongs to
his domestic life, with which I am dealing, having occurred under his
own roof, while it marks public feeling the most intense, and points to
the moral of his life. I give it in Colonel Lear's words, as near as I
can, having made a note of them at the time.

"Toward the close of a winter's day in 1791, an officer in uniform was
seen to dismount in front of the president's house, in Philadelphia,
and giving the bridle to his servant, knocked at the door of the
mansion. Learning from the porter that the president was at dinner, he
said he was on public business and had despatches for the president. A
servant was sent into the dining-room to give t