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There a French officer in Hessian boots, white trousers, blue uniform, and much-embroidered scarlet cuffs watched with amusement a slave carrying a goglet, or earthen jar, upon his head like an Egyptian, untouched by the hand, so adding dignity to carriage. He was holding a "round-aboutation" with an old hag who was telling his fortune.
He was dressed in a single-breasted black coat buttoned up, a pair of leather pantaloons stretched tightly across his broad thighs, polished Hessian boots, and a huge white neckcloth. "Halloa, Tregellis!" he cried, in the cheeriest fashion, as my uncle crossed the threshold, and then suddenly the smile faded from his face, and his eyes gleamed with resentment.
Prince Charles of Lorraine had by this time assumed the command of the confederate army at Terheyde, which being reinforced by the Hessian troops from Scotland, and a fresh body of Austrians under count Palfi, amounted to eighty-seven thousand men, including the Dutch forces commanded by the prince of Waldeck.
Washington, at the front and on the right of the line, swept down the Pennington road, and, as he drove back the Hessian pickets, he heard the shout of Sullivan's men as, with Stark leading the van, they charged in from the river. A company of jaegers and of light dragoons slipped away.
It certainly seems a grotesque claim to assert on the part of a people who in their political and social life have shown themselves a pre-eminently servile people; who have ever been cringing to their superiors; who never produced one single leader of free men, one Cromwell, one Mirabeau, one Gambetta; who always believed in the virtue of passive obedience; who always submitted to the policeman rather than to a policy; who always obeyed a Prince rather than a principle; who, as recently as the end of the eighteenth century, allowed themselves to be sold like cattle by Hessian princelings; who never rose to defend their sacred rights; who never fought a spirited battle in a righteous civil war; and who have always been ready to fight like slaves at the bidding of a sword-rattling despot.
"Quite well, Shingle," rejoins the gloved, a stout red faced sudoriferous yam fed planter, dressed in blue white jean trowsers and waistcoat, with long Hessian boots drawn up to his knee over the former, and a spannew square skirted blue coatee, with lots of clear brass buttons: a broad brimmed black silk hat, worn white at the edge of the crown wearing a very small neckcloth, above which shoots up an enormous shirt collar, the peaks of which might serve for winkers to a starting horse, and carrying a large whip in his hand "Quite well, my dear fellow," while he persists in dragging at it the other homo all the while standing in the absurd position of a finger post at length off comes the glove piecemeal perhaps a finger first, for instance then a thumb at length they tackle to, and shake each other like the very devil not a sober pump handle shake, but a regular jiggery jiggery, as if they were trying to dislocate each other's arms and, confound them, even then they don't let go they cling like sucker fish, and talk and wallop about, and throw themselves back and laugh, and then another jiggery jiggery.
He therefore directed Colonel Rawle, with a brigade of Hessians, to cross the Brunx and make a circuit so as to turn M'Dougal's right flank, while Brigadier General Leslie, with a strong corps of British and Hessian troops should attack him in front. When Rawle had gained his position, the detachment commanded by Leslie also crossed the Brunx, and commenced a vigorous attack.
Oh! the very look of it refreshed one unspeakably. Presently a group of half a dozen country Buccras overseers, or coffee planters, most likely, or possibly larger fish than either hove in sight, all in their blue white jean trowsers, and long Hessian boots pulled up over them, and new blue square cut, bright buttoned coatees, and thread bare silk broad brimmed hats.
Ten minutes after each regiment had entered a Moscow district, not a soldier or officer was left. Men in military uniforms and Hessian boots could be seen through the windows, laughing and walking through the rooms.
"Which is the way to the Hessian picket?" said the general. "I don't know," replied the man, sullenly. "You may tell," said Captain Forest, riding near the general, at the head of his battery, "for this is General Washington." The man's expression altered at once. "God bless and prosper you!" he cried eagerly, raising his hands to heaven. "There!
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