the second crossing, stretches a fertile bottom of a rich pebbled mould, about a fourth of a mile in width, and twenty feet above low-water mark. At this time it was covered by a fair, open walnut-wood, uncumbered with bush or undergrowth.'

The ascent from the river, however, is rarely abrupt; but by a succession of gentle alluvial slopes or bottoms the steep hill-sides are approached, as though the waters had gradually subsided from their original glory to a narrow bed at the very bottom of the ancient channel. At this particular place, the rise of the first bottom does not exceed an angle of 3°. Above it again rises a second bottom of the same width and about fifty feet higher than the first, and gradually ascending until its further edge rests upon the bold, rocky face of the mountain-line, climbing at once some two hundred feet to the usual level of the region around.2 A firm clay, overlaid with mould, forms the soil of the second bottom, which was heavily and more densely timbered than the first; and the underwood began to appear more plentifully where the ground was less exposed to the action of the spring floods. In the bosom of the hill, several springs unite their sources to give birth to a petty rivulet that hurries down the steep to be lost in the river. Its cradle lies in the bed of a broad ravine, forty or fifty feet. deep, that rises in the hill-side, and crossing the whole of the second bottom, debouches on the first, where the waters

' II. Sp. Wash., 470. XVI. Haz. Reg., 97.

The frontispiece of this volume gives an exact view of the battle-ground at this day. It is taken from the opposite side of the Monongahela. The crossing is just above the upper part of the stream visible in the engraving. The house and grove in the centre of the piece occupy very nearly the precise spot where was fought the hottest part of the action.

whose current it so far guides, trickle oozily down through a swampy bed. Great trees grew within and along this chasm, and the usual smaller growth peculiar to such a situation; and a prodigious copse of wild grape-vines (not yet entirely gone) shrouded its termination upon the first bottom and shadowed the birth of the infant brook. About two hundred yards from the line of hills, and three hundred south of the ravine just described, commences another of a more singular nature; with its steep sides, almost exactly perpendicular, it perfectly resembles a ditch cut for purposes of defence. Rising near the middle of the second bottom, it runs westwardly to the upper edge of the first, with a depth at its head of four or five feet, increasing as it descends, and a width of eight or ten. A century ago, its channel was overhung and completely concealed by a luxurious thicket of pea-vines and trailers, of bramblebushes and the Indian plum; its edges closely fringed with the thin, tall wood-grass of summer. But even now, when the forests are gone and the plough long since passed over the scene, the ravine cannot be at all perceived until one is directly upon it; and hence arose the chief disasters of the day. Parallel with, and about one hundred and fifty yards north of, this second gulley, ran a third; a dry, open hollow, and rather thinly wooded; but which afforded a happy protection to the enemy from the English fire. Either of these ravines would have sheltered an army: the second

the most important, though not the largest-would of itself afford concealment to a thousand men.1

A close personal examination of these localities during the summer of 1854, has confirmed in my mind the conclusion long since arrived at by Mr. Sparks.

There is little reason to doubt that as Braddock drew near, M. de Contrecœur was almost decided to abandon his position without striking a blow, and, withrawing his men, as did his successor, in 1758, leave to the English a bloodless victory. He certainly was prepared to surrender on terms of honorable capitulation. A solitary gun was mounted upon a carriage, to enable the garrison to evacuate with the honors of war; it being a point of nice feeling with a defeated soldier that he should retire with drums beating a national march, his own colours flying, and a cannon loaded, with a lighted match. This deprives the proceeding of a compulsory air; and to procure this gratification, Contrecœur made his arrangements.' The British army was so overwhelming in strength, so well appointed and disciplined, that he perhaps deemed any opposition to its advance would be not less fruitless than the defence of the works. However this may be, he had as yet, on the 7th of July, announced no definite conclusion, though possibly his views were perceptible enough to his subordinates. On that day it was known that the enemy, whose numbers were greatly magnified, were at the head-waters of Turtle Creek. On the 8th, when his route was changed, M. de Beaujeu, a captain in the regulars, proposed to the commander that he might be permitted to go forth with a suitable band to prepare an ambuscade for the English on the banks of the Monongahela, and to dispute with them the passage of the second ford. If we may believe tradition, it was with undisguised reluctance that Contrecœur complied with this request, and even then, it is said,