Revolutionary Heroes, and Other Historical Papers | Page 4

any civil capacity; and accordingly on the
fourteenth of June, 1775, the Massachusetts legislature elected him
"second Major General of the Massachusetts army." Before he had
received his commission occurred the battle of Bunker Hill, June
seventeenth. He passed the night previous in public service, for he was
President of the Provincial Congress, but, on the seventeenth, when the
congress met at Watertown, the president did not appear. Members
knew where he was, for he had told his friends that he meant to take
part in the impending movement.
It was a burning hot summer's day. After his night of labor, Warren
threw himself on his bed, sick from a nervous headache. The booming
of the guns summoned him forth, and shortly before the first assault he
was on the field ready to serve.
"I am here," he said to General Putnam, "only as a volunteer. Tell me
where I can be most useful."
And to Colonel Prescott he said:
"I shall take no command here. I come as a volunteer, with my musket
to serve under you."
And there he fought during the three onsets, cheering the men by his
coolness and confidence. He was one of the the very last to leave the
redoubt. When he had retreated about sixty yards he was recognized by
a British officer, who snatched a musket from a soldier and shot him.
The bullet entered the back of his head. Warren placed his hands, as if
mechanically, to the wound, and fell dead upon the hot and dusty field.
The enemy buried him where he fell. Nine months after, when the
British finally retreated from New England, his body, recognized by
two false teeth, was disinterred and honorably buried. He left four
children, of whom the eldest was a girl six years of age. Congress
adopted the eldest son. Among those who contributed most liberally
toward the education and support of the other children was Benedict
Arnold, who gave five hundred dollars. A little psalm book found by a
British soldier in Warren's pocket on the field is still in possession of
one of his descendants.

CAPTAIN NATHAN HALE, THE MARTYR-SPY.
General Washington wanted a man. It was in September, 1776, at the
City of New York, a few days after the battle of Long Island. The swift
and deep East River flowed between the two hostile armies, and
General Washington had as yet no system established for getting
information of the enemy's movements and intentions. He never needed
such information so much as at that crisis.
What would General Howe do next? If he crossed at Hell Gate, the
American army, too small in numbers, and defeated the week before,
might be caught on Manhattan Island as in a trap, and the issue of the
contest might be made to depend upon a single battle; for in such
circumstances defeat would involve the capture of the whole army. And
yet General Washington was compelled to confess:
"We cannot learn, nor have we been able to procure the least
information of late."
Therefore he wanted a man. He wanted an intelligent man, cool-headed,
skillful, brave, to cross the East River to Long Island, enter the enemy's
camp, and get information as to his strength and intentions. He went to
Colonel Knowlton, commanding a remarkably efficient regiment from
Connecticut, and requested him to ascertain if this man, so sorely
needed, could be found in his command. Colonel Knowlton called his
officers together, stated the wishes of General Washington, and,
without urging the enterprise upon any individual, left the matter to
their reflections.
Captain Nathan Hale, a brilliant youth of twenty-one, recently
graduated from Yale College, was one of those who reflected upon the
subject. He soon reached a conclusion. He was of the very flower of the
young men of New England, and one of the best of the younger soldiers
of the patriot army. He had been educated for the ministry, and his
motive in adopting for a time the profession of arms was purely
patriotic. This we know from the familiar records of his life at the time
when the call to arms was first heard.
In addition to his other gifts and graces, he was handsome, vigorous,
and athletic, all in an extraordinary degree. If he had lived in our day he
might have pulled the stroke-oar at New London, or pitched for the
college nine.
The officers were conversing in a group. No one had as yet spoken the

decisive word. Colonel Knowlton appealed to a French sergeant, an old
soldier of former wars, and asked him to volunteer.
"No, no," said he. "I am ready to fight the British at any place and time,
but I do not feel willing to go among them to be hung up like a