ng will-power and great physical strength to the
end of his days, notwithstanding the ravages of disease, and in 1786,
four years before he died, performed a journey to his birthplace in
Danvers, riding all the way on horseback, though with frequent stops by
the way not only for rest, but on account of the people who flocked out
to see him and desired to entertain the famous fighter in so many wars.

This was the last of his ventures afield, and henceforth he confined his
excursions to visiting the homes of his sons and daughters, and to trips
around his farm, though on Sundays and "prayer-meeting nights" he would
always be found in the meeting-house at the Green, where he was a
regular attendant. It is related that at one of the evening meetings one
of his fellow worshipers aroused him, by expressing his own conviction
that any person who had ever used profane language could hardly be
considered a model Christian. Old Put at once accepted the reproof as
intended, for it was well known that in moments of excitement, when
carried away by the furore of battle, he had often used words which he
would not care to review in print. He detested a coward, and when he met
one in retreat he did not hesitate to employ strong language in
expressing his opinion. At Horseneck, declared the only witness of his
reckless ride down the hill, "Old Put was cursing the British terribly."
There was no evading his friend's pointed remarks, so the honest old man
rose from his seat and "confessed the failing which he had finally
overcome"; but he added, with a twinkle in his eye, "it was enough to
make an angel swear at Bunker Hill to see the rascals run away from the
British!"[4]

[Footnote 4: Livingston's Life of Israel Putnam. An exhaustive work, by
a conscientious and painstaking author.]

In this respect he was no worse than his former Commander-in-Chief,
though he may have been oftener culpable, being so much more excitable
than the phlegmatic Washington.

The final summons came on Saturday, the twenty-ninth of May, 1790, when,
in a lower room of the house he had built nearly fifty years before, the
battle-scarred warrior, life's fitful fever ended, passed peacefully
away to his rest.

Israel Putnam was well prepared to die, declared his pastor in his
funeral sermon, and perfectly resigned to the will of God.

"He had been for years," says Major Humphreys, "in patient yet fearless
expectation of the approach of the King of Terrors, w