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A REVOLUTIONARY SOLDIER.
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cross colts. The good woman, all the while, did not say a word to us about eating, but went off to her room and shut the door; we staid a few minutes longer, and were just going away, when the old lady opened her door and said, "Come to your dinners, soldiers," with as much ease and familiarity as though we had belonged to the family. Agreeably to invitation, we went in and found the master of the house sitting in his elbow chair by the fire, who gave us a hearty welcome to the remains of his thanksgiving cheer; we ate a hearty dinner, and an excellent one it was; when, after returning them our sincere thanks for their hospitality, we pursued our journey.

This afternoon we passed a place where, on our march to Virginia, the past summer, a funny incident occurred, which at the time it happened, and at this time, excited considerable merriment. Our Captain (who we always took pains to discommode) had placed himself on the top of an old rail fence, during a momentary halt of the troops; the rail upon which he sat was very slender;—behind him was a meadow, and from the fence, for about a rod, was a bank almost perpendicular. I was sitting on the other end of the rail, when our Sergeant-Major, observing the weakness of the fence, came and seated himself by my side, and giving me a hint, we kept wriggling about till we broke the rail and let the Captain take his chance down the bank, among the bushes, quite to the bottom, taking good care ourselves not to go with him. When he came back he did not look very well pleased with his Irish hoist; whether he mistrusted that we had been the cause of his overturn, I do not know; he said but little, whatever he might think.

At night we stopped at a large elegant brick house, to which the owner bid us welcome. He told me that his house was lord Cornwallis' quarters, during part of the time he was in the Jerseys, in '76 and 77. He said, that Cornwallis was a morose, cross man, always quarrelling with and beating his servants; that he was glad his pride was humbled, but had much rather have heard that he was killed than taken. Here we again regaled ourselves on thanksgiving viands, which was nearly, or quite, the last; however, we had fared something better than I did at the rice and vinegar thanksgiving, in Pennsylvania, in the year 1777. We took breakfast here and went on.