Summary

C. Andrews The prisoners' memoirs, or, Dartmoor prison (1852)

Some cursed the day they were born; some, the day of their captivity; some attributed all their sufferings to the inattention of the Agent, and others, to the government of the United States. We retired to our hammocks, and gave vent to our feelings in sighs and tears.
The thought that we must forego all the endearments of life, and perish together, in a foreign country, among our enemies, was too much for our feelings to bear. The groans of the disconsolate and sick filled the whole prison. Our Agent not empowered to act, and without funds!
Source: Gutenberg

C. Andrews The prisoners' memoirs, or, Dartmoor prison (1852)

In the evening of this day, the bodies of our murdered countrymen were buried behind the prison walls in the same manner as before the peace, without form or ceremony, and no prisoner permitted to attend to see the last sad office, which one friend can perform for another in giving the grave its due. O! Britannia, thy boast is gone, thy pride is lost; humanity is fled from thy degenerate sons, and a safer asylum in the bosom of the savage tribes is found. Deny the dead their sacred due!
Source: Gutenberg

C. Andrews The prisoners' memoirs, or, Dartmoor prison (1852)

The battle and destruction of Washington had now crossed the Atlantic, and was sounding with great applause to the British arms; every paper was swelled with the most pompous description of the great battle, and the unparalleled bravery and magnanimity of their officers and soldiers, that had defeated and drove the whole American army, headed by Mr. Madison in person, and that they were in so close pursuit of him that he had a severe race all the way from Bladensburgh to Washington, which they were disposed to ridicule by comparing to John Gilpin’s celebrated race.
Source: Gutenberg

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