"The British had many useful friends in every part of the country, during the war, and were enabled to do many such deeds," remarked Colson.
"Fill up, my friends, another glass of ale, and drink the health of Capt. Lee!" added Hand, rising. The company filled their glasses and drank the toast. The veterans were not as deep drinkers as their young and vigorous friends, and therefore they merely sipped their ale and sat it aside.
GENERAL DANIEL MORGAN.
"Speaking of brave men," observed Colson, "I suppose there is not one of the company who will doubt the bravery of Gen. Morgan, the hero of so many fields."
"The man who does doubt it knows not what courage is," remarked Ransom, taking another sip of the ale.
"Well, I'm going to tell you something about his bravery," said Colson. "Men have different ideas of that particular thing."
"This 'thunderbolt of war,' this 'brave Morgan, who never knew fear,' was, in camp, often wicked and very profane, but never a disbeliever in religion. He testified that himself. In his latter years General Morgan professed religion, and united himself with the Presbyterian church in Winchester, Va., under the pastoral care of the Rev. Dr. Hill, who preached in that house some forty years, and may now be occasionally heard on Loudon Street, Winchester. His last days were passed in that town; and while sinking to the grave, he related to his minister the experience of his soul. 'People thought,' said he, 'that Daniel Morgan never prayed;'—'People said old Morgan never was afraid;'—'People did not know.' He then proceeded to relate in his blunt manner, among many other things, that the night they stormed Quebec, while waiting in the darkness and storm, with his men paraded, for the word 'to advance,' he felt unhappy; the enterprise appeared more than perilous; it seemed to him that nothing less than a miracle could bring them off safe from an encounter at such an amazing disadvantage. He stepped aside and kneeled by the side of a cannon—and then most fervently prayed that the Lord God Almighty would be his shield and defence, for nothing less than an almighty arm could protect him. He continued on his knees till the word passed along the line. He fully believed that his safety during that night of peril was from the interposition of God. Again, he said, about the battle of the Cowpens, which covered him with so much glory as a leader and a soldier—he had felt afraid to fight Tarleton with his numerous army flushed with success—and that he retreated as long as he could—till his men complained—and he could go no further. Drawing up his army in three lines, on the hill side; contemplating the scene—in the distance the glitter of the advancing enemy—he trembled for the fate of the day. Going to the woods in the rear, he kneeled in an old tree-top, and poured out a prayer to God for his army, and for himself, and for his country. With relieved spirits he returned to the lines, and in his rough manner cheered them for the fight; as he passed along, they answered him bravely. The terrible carnage that followed the deadly aim of his lines decided the victory. In a few moments Tarleton fled. 'Ah,' said he, 'people said old Morgan never feared;'—'they thought Morgan never prayed; they did not know;'—'old Morgan was often miserably afraid.' And if he had not been, in the circumstances of amazing responsibility in which he was placed, how could he have been brave?"
"We seldom hear of a man admitting that he was ever afraid," observed Hand. "But the man who never knew fear must be possessed of a small degree of intelligence and no sense of responsibility; neither of which are creditable. Great generals, and soldiers, in all ages, have boasted of their freedom from dread under all circumstances. But it is a mere boast. Fear is natural and useful, and I have ever observed that the man of most fear is the man of most prudence and forecast."