The Hessian garrison of fifteen hundred and forty men had enjoyed a right “merry Christmas,” after the style of their own “old country” fashion; and the night, inclement without, was bright within, as dance and song with every cheery accompaniment dispelled thoughts of watchfulness of ice-bound Delaware and driving tempest. It was indeed a night for within-door relish, and the season of the year was most conducive to the abandonment of all care and worry. “Toasts were drank” with gleesome delight; and the hilarity of the happy Hessian soldiers, officers and men, only ceased when the worn-out night compelled them to seek relief in rest. The garrison were sleeping as soundly when the stormy morning broke into day, as if they had compassed a hard day’s march during the night hours. The usual detail for guard was distributed, but no other sign of life appeared on the streets of Trenton. Before Colonel Rahl’s headquarters, two guns, stationed there more as a recognition of his commanding position than for use, were partly buried in snow. A battery of four guns was in open ground, not far from the Friends’ Meeting house; but neither earthworks nor other defences had been deemed essential to the security of the British winter quarters. General Grant had indeed written from Brunswick on the twenty-fourth: “It is perfectly certain there are no more rebel troops in New Jersey; they only send over small parties of twenty or thirty men. On last Sunday, Washington told his assembled generals that the ‘British are weak at Trenton and Princeton.’ I wish the Hessians to be on guard against sudden attack; but, at the same time, I give my opinion that nothing of the kind will be undertaken.” General Grant did, it would seem, compliment Washington’s sagacity, without comprehending his will-power to realize in action every positive conviction of possible duty. And so it was, that the garrison of Trenton on that Christmas night slept at ease, until morning dawned and Washington paid his unexpected visit.