They had enlisted for six months only, and their
time was out; but they never spoke of quitting the field.
It was now December, in the midst of snow and ice; and not a foot
among them that did not come bleeding to the frozen path it trod.
But, night after night, the men relieved each other to mount guard,
though the provision chest was well nigh empty; and, day after day,
they scoured the country for the chance of supplies, appearing to
the enemy on half a dozen points in the course of the day; making
him think the provincials, as we were scornfully called, ten times
as numerous as we really were. But alas, I am old, I find, and lose
the thread of my story. It was of Washington I meant to speak.
Nobody could know General Washington that had not seen him as we
did, at that dark hour of the struggle. It seemed as if that man
never slept. All day he was planning, directing, contriving; and all
night long he would write--write--write; letters to Congress,
begging them to give him full powers, and all would go well, for he
did not want power for himself, but only power to serve them;
letters to the generals in the north, warning, comforting, and
advising them; letters to his family and friends, bidding them look
at him and do as he did; letters to influential men every where,
entreating them to enlist men and money for the holy cause.
He never rested; and, with the cold gray dawning, would order out
his horse and ride through and around the miserable tents, and where
we often slept under the bare heavens, and every heart was of bolder
and better cheer as he passed.
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