es on our frontier and in the forts they have
turned us out of. Though there never will be any love lost between me and
Colonel Washington, it must be owned that _your favourite_ (I am not
jealous, Hal) is a brave man and a good officer. The family respect him
very much, and the General is always asking his opinion. Indeed, he is
almost the only man who has seen the Indians in their war-paint, and I
own I think he was right in firing upon Mons. Jumonville last year."

Harry resumes: "We keep the strictest order here in camp, and the orders
against drunkenness and ill behaviour on the part of the men are very
severe. The roll of each company is called at morning, noon, and night,
and a return of the absent and disorderly is given in by the officer to
the commanding officer of the regiment, who has to see that they are
properly punished. Each regiment has Divine Service performed at the head
of its colours every Sunday. The General does everything in the power of
mortal man to prevent plundering, and to encourage the people round about
to bring in provisions. He has declared soldiers shall be shot who dare
to interrupt or molest the market people. He has ordered the price of
provisions to be raised a penny a pound, and has lent money out of his
own pocket to provide the camp. Altogether he is a strange compound, this
General, and shows many strange inconsistencies in his conduct.

"Colonel Washington has had the fever very smartly, and has hardly been
well enough to keep up with the march. When either of us is ill, we are
almost as good friends again as ever, and though I don't love him as you
do, I know he is a good soldier, a good officer, and a brave, honest man;
and, at any rate, shall love him none the worse for not wanting to be our
step-father."

"'Tis a pretty sight," Harry continued, reading from his brother's
journal, "to see a long line of red coats threading through the woods or
taking their ground after the march. The care against surprise is so
great and constant that we defy prowling Indians to come unawares upon
us, and our advanced sentries and savages have on the contrary fallen in
with the enemy and taken a scalp or two from them. They are such cruel
villains, these French and their painted allies, that we do not think of
showing them mercy. Only think, we found but yesterday a little boy
scalped but yet alive in a lone house, where his parents had been
attacked and murdered by the savage enemy, of who