Lord Cornwallis surrendered his army and his sword to Washington to the same tune.

Numerous verses have been written to the air of Yankee Doodle, but the song given here is the one that was best known during our War for Independence. The words are said to have been written by a gentleman of Connecticut whose name is unknown.

FATHER and I went down to camp,

Along with Captain Gooding,
And there we see the men and boys,
As thick as hasty pudding.

Chorus - Yankee Doodle, keep it up,
Yankee Doodle, dandy,

Mind the music and the step,
And with the girls be handy.

And there we see a thousand men,
As rich as 'Squire David;
And what they wasted every day
I wished it could be saved.

The 'lasses they eat every day
Would keep an house a winter;
They have as much that, I'll be bound,
They eat it when they're a mind to.

And there we see a swamping gun,
Large as a log of maple,
Upon a deuced little cart,

A load for father's cattle.

And every time they shoot it off,
It takes a horn of powder,
And makes a noise like father's gun,
Only a nation louder.

I went as nigh to one myself
As Siah's underpinning;
And father went as nigh again,
I thought the deuce was in him.

Cousin Simon grew so bold,

I thought he would have cocked it; It scared me so, I shrinked it off, And hung by father's pocket.

And Captain Davis had a gun,
He kind of clapt his hand on 't,
And stuck a crooked stabbing iron
Upon the little end on 't.

And there I see a pumpkin shell
As big as mother's bason;
And every time they touched it off,
They scampered like the nation.

I see a little barrel, too,

The heads were made of leather, They knocked upon 't with little clubs And called the folks together.

And there was Captain Washington, And gentlefolks about him,

They say he's grown so tarnal proud He will not ride without 'em.

He got him on his meeting clothes,
Upon a strapping stallion,
He set the world along in rows,

In hundreds and in millions.

The flaming ribbons in his hat,
They looked so tearing fine ah,
I wanted pockily to get,

To give to my Jemimah.

I see another snarl of men

A digging graves, they told me,
So tarnal long, so tarnal deep,
They 'tended they should hold me.

It scared me so, I hooked it off,
Nor stopped, as I remember,
Nor turned about, till I got home,
Locked up in mother's chamber.

THE BATTLE OF BUNKER HILL

JUNE 17, 1775

CHARLESTOWN, like Boston, was built upon a peninsula and on it were two hills which have since been considerably lowered. These heights were known as Bunker Hill and Breed's Hill and were within easy gunshot of Boston. Gage saw that it would be wise to get them under his control and planned to occupy them on the night of June 18th. But the Americans were as quick as he to realize the importance of these hills and they determined to seize and fortify one of them.

The evening of June 16th saw a great stir on Cambridge Common, for twelve hundred colonists were mustered there for special duty. Colonel Prescott was given the command of the soldiers. He had fought in the wars with the French and was a man of great coolness and resource. With him was brave old Israel Putnam, a Connecticut farmer and veteran

of many an Indian war. Prayers were said by the President of Harvard College and then the men marched away in the direction of Charlestown. Few of them had been told that they were expected to capture a hill well in range of the British guns; but they all knew that they set out to fight and perhaps to die.

The colonial soldiers took with them wagons laden with spades and picks, but only a very scant supply of food. As the road they followed took them in front of the English ships, they marched with hushed voices and noiseless tread. Bunker Hill had been suggested as the best place to fortify; but Prescott understood that his orders were to take Breed's Hill; so he marched on there, although it was much nearer Boston and infinitely more dangerous to reach than Bunker Hill.

The night was warm and still. There was no moon, but the stars were unusually bright. Across the river Boston and her garrison were asleep and in the Bay the British ships lay, a grave menace of war; but they too slept.

When the top of the hill was reached an engineer marked out the lines for a redoubt and as the bell of Boston struck twelve the patriots fell to work. Most of them were accustomed to handling pickaxe and spade, so they worked with swiftness and skill, although they used caution lest the clang of iron against a stone should rouse the enemy. While officers and men dug and piled the earth into a low wall there floated up to them, from time to time, the singsong call of the British sentinel: "All is well!"

When morning came in all its summer glory, General Gage rubbed his eyes in amazement to see a strong intrenchment and hundreds of armed men where the evening before there had been only a field of gently waving grass. The battleships woke to some purpose and their guns began to hurl shot and

shell at the Americans who swarmed up the hilltop like a colony of busy ants.

The unaccustomed boom of the big guns might have worked havoc among the raw troops, for the earth-shaking noises were enough to frighten better-seasoned soldiers; but Colonel Prescott's coolness gave confidence to his men. He deliberately exposed himself to the fire, walking fearlessly on the top of the mud parapet while he talked to and encouraged the workers.

Gage, peering through his glasses, saw the tall figure of the American leader and, turning to a bystander, who chanced to be Prescott's brother-in-law, he asked:

"Will he fight?"

"Yes, sir," was the answer; "to the last drop of his blood!"

General Gage was annoyed, but he foresaw no great difficulty in dislodging the Americans from their position on the hilltop. He never dreamed that they could seriously oppose the regular troops.

At noon Generals Howe and Pigot crossed over from Boston with two thousand soldiers to drive away the colonists and capture their works. After reconnoitering, General Howe sent back the barges for more men, and was not satisfied until the British force numbered twenty-five hundred.

In spite of the disturbing fire from the warships, the Americans had labored at their intrenchments until they had a breastwork reaching from the redoubt to the bottom of the hill. It was a fragile barrier, for it was built partly of newmown hay and wooden fences, but at least it helped to inspire the patriots with confidence.

The British soldiers were a brave sight in their glowing uniforms and with their bayonets flashing in the sun. The tired, disheveled men on Breed's Hill looked down upon them with quickening pulse; but the colonial soldiers were not cow