We have here some circumstances furnished to us by the Memoirs of Wilkinson. That officer had returned from Philadelphia, and brought a letter from Gates to Washington. There was some snow on the ground, and he had traced the march of the troops for the last few miles by the blood from the feet of those whose shoes were broken. Being directed to Washington’s quarters, he found him, he says, alone, with his whip in his hand, prepared to mount his horse. “When I presented the letter of General Gates to him, before receiving it, he exclaimed with solemnity,—’What a time is this to hand me letters!’ I answered that I had been charged with it by General Gates. ’By General Gates! Where is he?’ ’I left him this morning in Philadelphia.’ ’What was he doing there?’ ’I understood him that he was on his way to Congress.’ He earnestly repeated, ’On his way to Congress!’ then broke the seal, and I made my bow, and joined General St. Clair on the bank of the river.” Did Washington surmise the incipient intrigues and cabals, that were already aiming to undermine him? Had Gates’s eagerness to push on to Congress, instead of remaining with the army in a moment of daring enterprise, suggested any doubts as to his object? Perhaps not. Washington’s nature was too noble to be suspicious; and yet he had received sufficient cause to be distrustful. Boats being in readiness, the troops began to cross about sunset. The weather was intensely cold; the wind was high, the current strong, and the river full of floating ice. Colonel Glover, with his amphibious regiment of Marblehead fishermen, was in advance; the same who had navigated the army across the Sound, in its retreat from Brooklyn on Long Island, to New York. They were men accustomed to battle with the elements, yet with all their skill and experience, the crossing was difficult and perilous. Washington, who had crossed with the troops, stood anxiously, yet patiently, on the eastern bank, while one precious hour after another elapsed, until the transportation of the artillery should be effected. The night was dark and tempestuous, the drifting ice drove the boats out of their course, and threatened them with destruction. Colonel Knox, who attended to the crossing of the artillery, assisted with his labors, but still more with his “stentorian lungs,” giving orders and directions. It was three o’clock before the artillery was landed, and nearly four before the troops took up their line of march. Trenton was nine miles distant; and not to be reached before daylight. To surprise it, therefore, was out of the question. There was no making a retreat without being discovered, and harassed in repassing the river. Beside, the troops from the other points might have crossed, and co-operation was essential to their safety. Washington resolved to push forward, and trust to Providence.