Two days later he wrote: “Our affairs have not undergone a change for the better. The militia under various pretences, of sickness, etc., are daily diminishing; and in a little time, I am persuaded, their number will be very inconsiderable.” In spite of all this, he still preserved enough calmness of soul to say a few words in defence of the faltering one. He wrote to a friend: “Men just dragged from the tender scenes of domestic life, unaccustomed to the din of arms, totally unacquainted with every kind of military skill, when opposed to troops regularly trained, disciplined, and appointed, became timid and ready to fly from their own shadows. Besides, the sudden change in their manner of living brings on sickness in many and impatience in all, and an unconquerable desire of returning to their respective homes.” A few days later, however, when he saw his best divisions giving way before a small company of Hessians, he lost the composure which nearly always distinguished him. He dashed in among the fleeing men, pulled his pistols from the holsters, and aimed them at his own soldiers, crying, “Are these the men with whom I am expected to defend my country?” Despair seized the General. It seemed as though he sought death, for he drew rein, while his men deserted him and the enemy was only fifty paces distant. His adjutant seized his horse’s bridle and led him away almost by force. The retreat was continued, Congress was kept informed of the situation, and at last they determined to raise a new body of troops. But the carrying out of this measure took time; men were not so quickly to be found, and when enlisted had to have some little military training.