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Rh captain. He related to me an anecdote, that gave me rather a disagreeable feeling, as it may, perhaps, my readers. It was thus,—"At the battle of Germantown, in the year 1777, a Dutchman (an inhabitant of that town) and his wife fired upon some of the British during the action; whether they killed any one or not, he did not say; but after the battle some one informed against them and they were both taken and confined in the provost-guardhouse, in the city, and there kept with scarcely any thing to sustain nature, and not a spark of fire to warm them. On the morning that the Augusta was blown up at fort Mifflin, on Mud Island, the poor old man had got to the prison-yard, to enjoy the warm sunbeams, with a number of other prisoners, (my informant among them, he being a prisoner at the time,) when they heard the report of the ship's magazine, the poor creature exclaimed, "Huzza for Gen. Washington! to-morrow he comes." The villain Provost Marshal, upon hearing this, put him into the cellar of the prison, and kept him there, without allowing him the least article of sustenance, till he died. The prisoners cut a small crevice in the floor, with a knife, through which they poured water and sometimes a little spirits, while he held up his mouth to the place to receive it."—Such inhuman treatment was often shown to our people when prisoners, by the British, during the revolutionary war. But it needs no comment.

In the morning before we marched, some of us concluded to have a stimulater. I went to a house, near by, where I was informed they sold liquors; when I entered the house, I saw a young woman in decent morning dishabille; I asked her if I could have any liquor there; she told me that her husband had just stepped out and would be in directly, and very politely desired me to be seated. I had sat but a minute or two when there came in from the back yard, a great potbellied negro man, rigged off in his superfine broadcloth, ruffled shirt, bow-shin and flat foot, and as black and shining as a junk bottle. "My dear," said the lady, "this soldier wishes for a quart of rum." I was thunderstruck; had not the man taken my canteen from me and measured me the liquor, I should certainly have forgotten my errand. I took my canteen and hastened off as fast as possible, being fearful that I might hear or see more of their "dearing," for