him than have lived in luxury with the red-coat
general.

"I recollect a scene I beheld in the next hut to the one in which I
messed. An old friend, named Josiah Jones, was dying. He was lying on a
scant straw bed, with nothing but rags to cover him. He had been sick
for several days, but wouldn't go under the doctor's hands, as he always
said it was like going into battle, certain of being killed. One day,
when we had no notion of anything of the kind, Josiah called out to us,
as we sat talking near his bed, that he was dying, and wanted us to pray
for him. We were all anxious to do anything for the man, for we loved
him as a brother; but as for praying, we didn't exactly know how to go
about it. To get clear of the service, I ran to obtain the poor fellow a
drink of water to moisten his parched lips.

"While the rest were standing about, not knowing what to do, some one
heard the voice of General Washington in the next hut, where he was
comforting some poor wretches who had their feet almost frozen off.
Directly, he came to our door, and one of the men went and told him the
state of things. Now, you see, a commander-in-chief might have been
justified in being angry that the regulations for the sick had been
disobeyed, and have turned away; but he was a nobler sort of man than
could do that. He entered the hut, and went up to poor Josiah, and asked
him how he was. Josiah told him that he felt as if he was dying, and
wanted some one to pray for him. Washington saw that a doctor could do
the man no good, and he knelt on the ground by him and prayed. We all
knelt down too; we couldn't help it. An old comrade was dying, away from
his home and friends, and there was our general kneeling by him, with
his face turned towards heaven, looking, I thought, like an angel's.
Well, he prayed for Heaven to have mercy on the dying man's soul; to
pardon his sins; and to take him to Himself: and then he prayed for us
all. Before the prayer was concluded, Josiah's spirit had fled, and his
body was cold and stiff. Washington felt the brow of the poor fellow,
and, seeing that his life was out, gave the men directions how to
dispose of the corpse, and then left us to visit the other parts of the
camp."

"That was, indeed, noble conduct," said young Harmar. "Did he ever speak
to you afterwards about violating the regulations of the army?"

"No," replied Wilson. "He knew that strict discipline could not be, and
should not have been mainta