quietly dropped back into the drowsy tone of narrative, and
proceeded:--

"Yes--never flag nor hang back. The greater the danger, the more do
you press up to the mark. So we did at Trenton in the Jerseys, on
that most glorious day of my life of which I am now about to tell
you.

I must tell you that I had the honor of fighting under General
Washington; for I had been marched down to Trenton with a stout-
hearted teamster, named Judah Loring, from Braintree, Massachusetts,
who, after our battle at Bunker Hill, in that State, picked me up
from the bottom of the works, where, for want of pickaxes, I had
been, as I told you, serving as a trenching, tool, and made himself
my better-half and commander-in-chief. Excuse a stately phrase; but,
after the battle of Bunker Hill, I never could screw up my muzzle to
call any man master or owner again.

We found only a few thousand men and muskets there, principally from
Virginia, Pennsylvania, and the Jerseys, with a few companies of New
Englanders; and a steadier, sturdier set of men than these last
never breathed. 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