slightly buried that the dogs or hogs, or both, had dug them out of the ground. The sculls and other bones, and hair were scattered about the place. Here were Hessian sculls as thick as a bomb shell;—poor fellows! they were left unburied in a foreign land;—they had, perhaps, as near and dear friends to lament their sad destiny as the Americans who lay buried near them. But they should have kept at home, we should then never have gone after them to kill them in their own country. But, the reader will say, they were forced to come and be killed here; forced by their rulers who have absolute power of life and death over their subjects. Well then, reader, bless a kind Providence that has made such a distinction between your condition and theirs. And be careful too that you do not allow yourself ever to be brought to such an abject, servile and debased condition.
We lay at the White plains some time. While here I was transferred to the Light Infantry, when I was immediately marched down to the lines. I had hard duty to perform during the remainder of the campaign. I shall not go into every particular, but only mention a few incidents and accidents which transpired.
There were three regiments of Light Infantry, composed of men from the whole main army,—it was a motly group,—Yankees, Irishmen, Buckskins and what not. The regiment that I belonged to, was made up of about one half New-Englanders and the remainder were chiefly Pennsylvanians,—two setts of people as opposite in manners and customs as light and darkness, consequently there was not much cordialty subsisting between us; for, to tell the sober truth, I had in those days, as lief have been incorporated with a tribe of western Indians, as with any of the southern troops; especially of those which consisted mostly (as the Pennsylvanians did,) of foreigners. But I was among them and in the same regiment too, and under their officers, (but the officers, in general, were gentlemen,) and had to do duty with them; to make a bad matter worse, I was often, when on duty, the only Yankee that happened to be on the same tour for several days together. "The bloody Yankee," or "the d—d Yankee," was the mildest epithets that they would bestow upon me at such times. It often made me
