"Why, gentlemen," replied he, "since you have been so polite
as to ask my opinion, I will as frankly give it, though I am afraid

it will seem very odd, especially coming from a soldier. However,
be that as it may, my opinion you have asked, and my opinion you shall have;

which is, that religion is the only thing to make a man happy
in cottages or courts."

The young officers began to stare.
Gathering from their looks, that some of the company did not relish

this kind of philosophy, he quickly thus resumed his speech.
"Pardon! gentlemen, I beg pardon! I must not be misunderstood.

By `religion', I don't mean `priest-craft'. I don't mean
that superstitious grimace; that rolling up of white eyes,

and spreading of sanctified palms; with `disfigured faces and long prayers,'
and all the rest of that holy trumpery, which, so far from

making people cheerful, tends but to throw them into the dumps.
But I mean, by `religion', that divine effort of the soul,

which rises and embraces the great author of its being with filial ardor,
and walks and converses with him, as a dutiful child with his revered father.

Now gentlemen, I would ask, all prejudice apart, what is there
can so exalt the mind and gladden the heart, as this high friendship

with heaven, and those immortal hopes that spring from religion?"
Here one of the company, half blushing, as palpably convicted

by the truth of the general's argument smartly called out --
"Well but, general, don't you think we can do pretty well here in camp,

without religion?"
"What!" replied De Kalb, "would you give it all up to the priests?"

"Yes, to be sure I would," said the young officer, "for I am for every man's
following his own trade, general. They are priests, and we are soldiers.

So let them do all the praying, and we will do all the fighting."
"Why, as to the fighting part," rejoined De Kalb, "I have no objection

to doing all that for the priests, especially as their profession
does not allow them to fight for themselves. But as to giving them up

all the devotion, I confess I am not so liberal. No! no! gentlemen,
charity begins at home; and I am not for parting with pleasure so easily."

"PLEASURE!" replied the young officer with a sneer.
"Yes, sir, PLEASURE," returned De Kalb. "According to my creed, sir,

piety and pleasure are synonymous terms; and I should just as soon
think of living physically, without bread, as of living pleasantly,

without religion. For what is religion, as I said before, but HABITUAL
FRIENDSHIP WITH GOD? And what can the heart conceive so delightful?

Or what can so gratify it in all its best and strongest desires.
For example, gentlemen, we are all fond of honor. I, for my part,

am fond of the friendship of the king of France. You glory in
the friendship of the great Washington. Then what must be the glory of him

who is in friendship with God? Again, gentlemen, we are all born to love,
to admire, to adore. If a man have no love, he is gloomy.

If he love a worthless object, he is mortified. But if he love
a truly worthy object, his face shines, his eyes sparkle,

his voice becomes sweet, and his whole air expressive of cheerfulness.
And as this happy feeling must, in the nature of things,

keep pace with the excellence of the object that is beloved,
then what must be the cheerfulness of him who loves the greatest, best,

and loveliest of all beings, whose eternal perfections and goodness
can for ever make him happier than heart can ask or think?

"In a word, gentlemen, though I am a soldier, and soldiers you know
are seldom enthusiasts in this way, yet I verily believe, as I said before,

that a man of enlightened and fervent piety must be infinitely happier
in a cottage, than an irreligious emperor in his palace."

In the height of this extraordinary conversation, an officer stepped in
and announced the arrival of general Gates.

And here, as I have in this chapter given the reader what the jockies call
a `pretty long heat', I beg leave to order a halt and allow him

a little time to breathe.
Chapter 12.

Gen. Gates -- bon mot of British general Lee -- how an army
ought not to march -- De Kalb prophecies -- chickens counted

before they are hatched, alias, Marion and the author sent by Gen. Gates
to prevent the escape of Cornwallis, before he had run --

the British and American armies meet -- Gates and his militia-men
leave De Kalb in the lurch -- his gallantbehavior, and glorious death.

When a poor fellow is going down hill, it is but too common, they say,
for every body to give him a kick.

"Let dogs delight to bark and bite,
For heaven hath made them so."

But, if I know myself aright, I can truly say, that nothing
of this vile spirit suggests a syllable of what I now write

of the fortunate" target="_blank" title="a.不幸的，运气差的">unfortunate general Gates. On the contrary, I feel an ardent wish
to speak handsomely of him; and in one view of him I can so speak.

As a gentleman, few camps or courts ever produced his superior.
But though a perfect Chesterfield at court, in camp he was certainly

but a Paris. 'Tis true, at Saratoga he got his temples stuck round
with laurels as thick as a May-day queen with gaudy flowers.

And though the greater part of this was certainly the gallant workmanship
of Arnold and Morgan, yet did it so hoist general Gates

in the opinion of the nation, that many of his dear friends,
with a prudent regard, no doubt, to their own dearer selves,

had the courage to bring him forward on the military turf
and run him for the generalissimoship against the great Washington.

But though they were not able to prosper him in this mad attempt,
yet they so far succeeded as to get him the command of the army of Carolina,

where his short and calamitous career soon caused every good patriot
to thank God for continuing to his servant Washington,

the command of the American armies.
On his way from the northern states, general Gates passed

through Fredericksburg, where he fell in with general Charles Lee,
who, in his frank manner, asked him where he was going.

"Why, to take Cornwallis."
"I am afraid," quoth Lee, "you will find him a tough piece of English beef."

"Tough, sir," replied Gates; "tough! then begad I'll tender him.
I'll make `piloo' of him, sir, in three hours after I set eyes upon him."

"Aye! will you indeed?" returned Lee. "Well then send for me,
and I will go and help you to eat him."

Gates smiled; and bidding him adieu, rode off. Lee bawled after him,
"Take care, Gates! take care! or your northern laurels will degenerate

into southern willows."
The truth is, though general Lee was extremely splenetic, other than which,

such a miserable old bachelor and infidel could hardly be,
yet he certainly had a knack of telling people's fortunes.

By virtue of this faculty he presently discovered that general Gates
was no Fabius; but on the contrary, too much inclined

to the fatal rashness of his fortunate" target="_blank" title="a.不幸的，运气差的">unfortunate colleague.
And so it turned out. For, from the moment he joined the army, he appeared

to act like one who thought of nothing but to have it proclaimed of him
in all the newspapers on the continent, that in so many days, hours,

minutes, and seconds, he flew from Philadelphia to South Carolina,
`saw, fought, and conquered' Cornwallis; and flew back again

with the trophies of a second British army vanquished.
Instead of moving on as old De Kalb had done, with a prudent regard

to the health and refreshment of the troops, he, Jehu like,
drove them on without regard to either. He would not take the lower road,

as De Kalb earnestly advised, through a rich and plentiful country.
Oh no; that was too round about; would too long have delayed

his promised glory.
Like an eagle shaking his bold pinions in the clouds of his pride,

he must dash down at once upon his prey; and so, for a near cut,
take us through a pine barren, sufficient to have starved

a forlorn hope of caterpillars. I shall make no attempt to describe
the sufferings of the army. For, admitting that I should not lack words,

my reader would, I am sure, lack faith. Indeed, at this season,
when the old crop was gone and the new not quite come in,

what had we to expect, especially in such a miserable country,