{320}the same gentleman has set up a stone over the graves of Captain Turner, of North Carolina, Major Irvine, and six soldiers of the American army, who were slain in the battle, and buried there together. General Nash, of North Carolina, * and Majors Sherburne and White, ** the two aids of General Sullivan, were also among the slain. Although the Americans were defeated, or rather retreated from almost certain victory, no blame was attached to the commander-in-chief and the general officers under his command. On the contrary, when Washington's letter to Congress, describing the battle, was [[Octobers 8, 1777]] read, that body passed a vote of thanks to him for his "wise and well-concerted attack upon the enemy's army near Germantown," and to "the officers and soldiers of the army for their brave exertions on that occasion." *** A medal was also ordered to be struck and presented to General Washington.**** It was never executed. Lord Cornwallis sped to the succor of the British camp at Germantown as soon as intelligence of the attack upon it reached General Howe. He took with him a corps of cavalry and grenadiers; but when he arrived, the Americans had left, and retired to their camp [[October, 1777]] Skippack Creek. There Washington remained until the 29th, when a council of war was held, (v) and the next day he removed, with the whole army under his command, to the range of hills about three fourths of a mile northeast from the village of Whitemarsh, where he intended to go into winter quarters. Thither we also went on leaving Germantown at noon. Whitemarsh is situated in a beautiful little valley north of Chestnut Hill, about fourteen miles from Philadelphia, and six from Mount Airy, the upper part of Germantown. The sun glowed warm and bright at midday, and as we passed over Chestnut Hill it revealed many little hamlets in every direction, half hidden behind variegated groves. Descending the northern slope of Chestnut Hill, we passed through Whitemarsh village, and, turning eastward, passed over a lower ridge, crossed a narrow valley watered by the romantic Wissahicon, and skirting the base of a range of gentle, cultivated hills, and arrived at the spacious stone mansion, tottering with age and neglect, where Washington made his headquarters. The house stands upon the edge of a wet meadow, at the head of a fine valley, and was a sort of baronial hall in size and character when Elmar, its wealthy owner at the time of the Revolution, dispensed hospitality to all who came under its roof. It is sixty