In justice to many American officers of rank, and to the Garrison generally, it must be admitted that the decision of their leader, if credence might be given to their looks and language, was any thing but satisfactory to them, and it must be confessed that it most have been mortifying in the extreme to have yielded without a blow a fortress so well provided with the means of defence.  What the result would have been, had the British columns mounted to the assault, it is impossible to say.  That they would have done their duty is beyond all question, but there is no reason to believe the Americans, under a suitable commander, would have failed in theirs.  Superiority of numbers and position was on the one side:  a daring Chief, an ardent desire of distinction, and the impossibility of retreat without humiliation, on the other.

In alluding thus to the capitulation of Detroit, we beg not to be understood as either reflecting on the American character, or unduly exalting our own.  Question of personal bravery there was none, since no appeal was made to arms; but the absence of sanguinary event left in high relief the daring of the British Commander, whose promptitude and genius alone secured to him so important yet bloodless a conquest.  Had he evinced the slightest indecision, or lost a moment in preparing for action, the American General, already intimidated by the mere report of his approach (as was evinced by his hasty abandonment of the Canadian shore) would have had time to rally, and believing him to be not more enterprizing than his predecessor, would have recovered from his panic and assumed an attitude, at once, more worthy of his trust, commensurate with his means of defence, and in keeping with his former reputation.  The quick apprehension of his opponent, immediately caught the weakness, while his ready action grappled intuitively with the advantage it presented.  The batteries, as our narrative has shown, were opened without delay—­the flotilla worked up the river within sight of the fortress—­and the troops and Indians effected their landing in full view of the enemy.  In fact, every thing was conducted in a manner to show a determination of the most active and undoubted description.  With what result has been seen.

It was in the evening of the day of surrender, that the little English squadron, freighted with the prisoners taken in Detroit, dropped slowly past Amherstburg, into Lake Erie.  By an article in the capitulation, it had been stipulated, that the irregular troops should be suffered to return to their homes, under the condition that they should not again serve during the war, while those of the line were to be conducted to the Lower Province, there to remain until duly exchanged.  The appearance as captives of those who had, only a few days before, been comfortably established on the Sandwich shore, and had caused the country to feel already some of the horrors of invasion, naturally enough drew forth most of the