Lee, naturally indolent, lingered in bed until eight o’clock. He then came down in his usual slovenly style, half-dressed, in slippers and blanket coat, his collar open, and his linen apparently of some days’ wear. After some inquiries about the campaign in the North, he gave Wilkinson a brief account of the operations of the main army, which he condemned in strong terms, and in his usual sarcastic way. He wasted the morning in altercation with some of the militia, particularly the Connecticut light-horse; “several of whom,” says Wilkinson, “appeared in large, full-buttoned perukes, and were treated very irreverently. One wanted forage, another his horse shod, another his pay, a fourth provisions, &c.; to which the general replied, ’Your wants are numerous; but you have not mentioned the last,—you want to go home, and shall be indulged; for d— you, you do no good here.’” Colonel Scammel, the adjutant-general, called from General Sullivan for orders concerning the morning’s march. After musing a moment or two, Lee asked him if he had a manuscript map of the country. It was produced, and spread upon a table. Wilkinson observed Lee trace with his finger the route from Vealtown to Pluckamin, thence to Somerset court-house, and on, by Rocky Hill, to Princeton; he then returned to Pluckamin, and traced the route in the same manner by Boundbrook to Brunswick, and after a close inspection carelessly said to Scammel, “Tell General Sullivan to move down towards Pluckamin; that I will soon be with him.” This, observes Wilkinson, was off his route to Alexandria on the Delaware, where he had been ordered to cross, and directly on that towards Brunswick and Princeton. He was convinced, therefore, that Lee meditated an attack on the British post at the latter place. From these various delays they did not sit down to breakfast before ten o’clock. After breakfast Lee sat writing a reply to General Gates, in which, as usual, he indulged in sarcastic comments on the commander-in-chief. “The ingenious manœuvre of Fort Washington,” writes he, “has completely unhinged the goodly fabric we had been building. There never was so d—d a stroke; _entre nous_, a certain great man is most damnably deficient. He has thrown me into a situation where I have my choice of difficulties: if I stay in this province I risk myself and army; and if I do not stay, the province is lost for ever. * * * * * As to what relates to yourself, if you think you can be in time to aid the general, I would have you by all means go; you will at least save your army,” &c.[147]