rdingly left the pike and formed in the field, and fought until our support came up, when the enemy broke and fled, our men closely pursuing.
Our company had but a handful of men. We lost but one in number, a host though in value, Orderly Sergeant Richard Washington, than whom no truer or braver spirit has yet been martyred in defence of our country's freedom.
My horse was broken down, (the fifth since I left Virginia,) and when Washington fell, I paused to take a last look at him—one whom IWashington fell, I paused to take a last look at him—one whom I had not known long, but one whom I had learned to esteem, admire and respect.
He spoke not a word after he fell, nor was there any evidence that he was alive visible, though with my hand upon his breast I felt his heart still to beat.
Driven from the body by the enemy before I could pull a ring from his finger, ere I returned the blood had left his cheek, and he lay calmly, painted in the sallow and ashy paleness of death.
I remained, after taking his arms and effects, until arrangements cou