One day some men came in-to camp drest in an odd garb, such as was worn to hunt in. The suit was made of deer-skin, and the long shirt had a deep fringe all round. This dress was the cause of much mirth to men who came from the sea-shore, and were used to short coats, and rough plain clothes. There was snow on the ground, and when the jokes gave out, snow-balls took their place, for a war of words is quite sure to end in blows. Men came up to the aid of both sides. Fists were used, and all took part in the hand-to-hand fight, and there was a great stir in the camp. While the fight was at its height Wash-ing-ton rode up. None of his aides were with him. He threw the reins of his own horse in-to the hands of the black-man who rode near, sprang from his seat, and rushed in-to the thick of the fray. Then he seized two of the tall stout hunts-men by the throat, and talked to them and shook them while he held them at arm's length. This put an end to the brawl at once, and the rest of the crowd slunk off in haste, and left but three men on the ground: Wash-ing-ton, and the two he held in his grasp. As the cold days and nights came on the men grew home-sick, and longed to be by their own fire-sides. It was right that some of them should go, for they had served out their time, and this made the rest lone-some and sad. Songs would not cheer them, and they paid no heed to the words of those who sought to rouse them from these depths of woe. Wash-ing-ton was full of fears, which were shared by all those who were near him in rank, yet he did not lose hope. Gen-er-al Greene wrote, "They seem to be so sick of this way of life, and so home-sick, that I fear a large part of our best troops will soon go home." Still his heart did not lose hope. All would come right in time; and his words of cheer were a great help to Wash-ing-ton at this time. The year 1775 had been a dark one for our land, and there was no ray of hope to light the dawn of 1776. There were but 10,000 troops to take the field. There was a lack of arms, a lack of clothes, and a lack of food, and these things made camp-life hard to bear, and were a great grief to the heart of the chief. He could not sleep. Had the foe known of their plight, they would have borne down on them and swept them out of sight. But God took care of them. In the first month of the year there was a stir on the Bos-ton wharves. A large fleet of boats lay in the stream, on board of which the red-coats swarmed, and there were two sloops-of-war filled with guns and war-like stores. All were in charge of Gen-er-al Howe, and Wash-ing-ton guessed what his plans were! and felt that the time had come for him to strive to wrest Bos-ton from the King's troops.