he
added, "I wish you to have my charger, Bruce, and my body servant,
Bishop. These two gentlemen are witnesses that I give them to you."

Orme and I bowed our assent, and Washington thanked him with a trembling
voice. He was soon wandering again, this time, apparently, among the
scenes of his earlier manhood.

"Messieurs de la Garde Francaise," he cried, "tirez, s'il vous plait!"

"Ah," murmured Orme, "he is at Fontenoy."

And again,--

"Poor Fanny, I always thought she would play till she would be forced to
tuck herself up."

"She was his sister," said Orme, answering our questioning glances. "She
ruined herself at cards and then hanged herself. It was a sad story."

And yet again,--

"No, I'll not take your purse!" he cried; and then after a moment, "nor
ask my life at your hands. Do what you will."

I could bear no more, and rode forward out of earshot. To see this
gallant man lying there, slowly dying, bereft at one stroke of life and
that far dearer to him than life, his military reputation, moved me as
few things had ever done. He had another lucid interval toward the middle
of the afternoon, and warmly praised the conduct of his officers.

"They were gallant boys, every one," he said. "They did their duty
as brave men should. How many of them fell?" he asked suddenly,
turning to Orme.

"Sixteen," answered Orme sadly.

"And how many were wounded?"

"Forty-seven."

"Sixty-three,--and there were only eighty-nine," and Braddock sighed
heavily. "And how went it with the men?"

Orme hesitated, fearing to disclose the extent of the disaster, but the
general's eyes were on his and would take no denial.

"They suffered very heavily," said Orme at last. "Less than five hundred
escaped unharmed. All of the wounded who remained on the field were
killed by the Indians."

"And we went into battle with near fifteen hundred men," said Braddock.
"Why, it was mere slaughter. There has never an army gone into battle
which lost such proportion of its numbers. Ah, well, I shall soon join
them. And they are happier than I, for they went to their end honored
and applauded, whilst I am a broken and ruined man, who will be
remembered only to be cursed."

He turned his head away from us, and a great tear rolled down his cheek.
Orme was crying like a child, and made no effort to conceal it, nor were
Washington and I less moved.

"At least," he said at last, turning back to us with a smile, "it were
better to have