In the siege of Yorktown Washington rode a splendid sorrel charger, white-faced and white-footed, named Nelson, and "remarkable as the first nicked horse seen in America." The general cherished this fine animal with strong affection. "This famous charger died at Mount Vernon many years after the Revolution at a very advanced age. After the chief had ceased to mount him, he was never ridden, but grazed in a paddock in summer, and was well cared for in winter; and as often as the retired farmer of Mount Vernon would be making a tour of his grounds, he would halt at the paddock, when the old war-horse would run, neighing, to the fence, proud to be caressed by the great master's hand." No sooner did Cornwallis surrender than the commander-in-chief despatched a courier on horseback to Philadelphia, to bear the glad tidings to Congress. It was past midnight when the courier reached the city, and the night watchmen, on their respective beats, had just cried, "Twelve o'clock and all is well!" They caught the glad news with joy, and the next hour they cried: "One o'clock, AND CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!" Wakeful citizens in bed could scarcely believe their ears. They started up, and listened. Again the joyful tidings were repeated: "CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!" Hundreds sprang from their beds in wild delight. Lights began to appear in the dwellings, darting from room to room. Soon men and women rushed from their habitations into the streets in the greatest excitement. Some were half dressed, scarcely knowing, in their exuberance of joy, whether they were in the flesh or out. Many wept to hear the news confirmed, and as many laughed. Not a few caught up the watchmen's cry, and ran from street to street, announcing, at the top of their voices: "CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN! CORNWALLIS IS TAKEN!" Every minute added to the throng in the streets; men, women, and children joining in the exhilarating exercise of sounding out their excessive delight upon the night air. Neighbors clasped hands and embraced each other to express their gladness. Many were too full for utterance; they broke down in tears with their first attempt to join in the general acclaim. Such a varied, impulsive, uncontrollable expression of joy was never before witnessed in that city. Soon the bell on the old State-House rang out its gladsome peals, the same old bell that signalled the adoption of the Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776. Other bells, one after another, united in the grand chorus of jubilation, supplemented by the thunder of artillery from the fortifications about the city, until every method of expressing real joy seemed to combine, as if by magical art.