The strongest are the gentlest. It is related that having found an Indian woman too old and feeble to retreat with her people, that Sullivan left her with a plentiful supply of provisions, though, as one of the party writes, "we only had half a ration every other day ourselves." It is not my province to put forth a brief for General Sullivan, yet that one incident cast a side-light on his character that impressed me more as to the true lovely heartiness of the man than anything I have found. Constancy to a friend is an attribute to those who approach greatness. After the Indian war Sullivan was reviled unmercifully for the devastation wrought by him in the Indian country. Out of his love for General Washington he suffered in silence, while he had in his possession General Washington's written instructions to do exactly as he had done. Perchance for a good man some would even dare to die. But what of a man whose friendship holds so strong that he may see that which is dearer to him than life--his character--filched from him, and lest he should harm a friend, allow his enemies to do with that character as they wished. Probably no historian ever lived who could write more wrong history than Benjamin Lossing, who accuses Sullivan of carelessness and want of vigilance as a commanding officer and mentions Bedford and Brandywine. Nothing could be farther from the truth. At Bedford he withdrew his forces because the French Navy would not support him, and it was out of the question to remain in the position he had taken up. We have John Fiske's word for it that Brandywine was a drawn battle. Of energy he had a plenty. It is on record that after he and General Clinton united (and Clinton was no sluggard) his Division time and again out-marched that of Clinton. At one time he broke road across nine miles of swamp while Clinton following him had to camp in the middle of the morass. So difficult was the morass that the Indian spies who had been watching his advance never dreamed that he would attempt the passage of the swamp, and withdrew to their camps. So confident were the Tories and Indians, that when he emerged from the swamp their campfires were still burning. Right here is a place to say a word about General Sullivan's veracity. After his return from conquering the Six Nations he reported that he had destroyed forty villages, and his detractors could not find but eighteen. It at last developed that when his subordinates had reported destroying a group of buildings he most naturally supposed that it was an Indian village, and so put it down in his report.