as have the valleys of the Connecticut and the Penobscot.  The important change came, when Lord Cornwallis, at Wilmington, North Carolina, took the responsibility of the dashing, but fatal plan by which he crossed North Carolina with his own army, joined Phillips’s army in Virginia, and with this large force, with no considerable enemy opposed, was in a position to go anywhere or to do anything unmolested.  Cornwallis was an admirable officer, quite the ablest the English employed in America.  He was young, spirited, and successful,—­and, which was of much more importance in England, he had plenty of friends at Court.  He conceived the great insubordination, therefore, of this great movement, which must compromise Sir Henry Clinton’s plans, although Sir Henry was his commander.  He wrote to the Secretary for the Colonies in London, and to General Phillips in Virginia, that he was satisfied that a “serious attempt” on that State, or “solid operations in Virginia,” made the proper plan.  So he abandoned Carolina, to which he had been sent, to General Greene; and with the idea that Sir Henry Clinton, his superior in command, ought to quit New York and establish himself in Virginia, without waiting that officer’s views, he marched thither himself in such wise as to compel him to come.  In that movement the great game was really lost.  And it is to that act of insubordination, that, until this eventful April, 1862, the valley of James River has owed its historical interest.

He wrote from North Carolina, directing General Phillips to join him in Petersburg, Virginia; and thither Phillips called in his different corps who were “stealing tobacco,” and there he himself arrived, in a dying condition, on the 9th of May.  “I procured a post-chaise to convey him,” says Arnold, his second in command.  The town is familiar to travellers, as being the end of the first railroad-link south of Richmond.  They still show the old house in which poor Phillips lay sick, while Lafayette, from the other side of the river, cannonaded the town with his light field-pieces.  One of his balls entered the house, killed an old negro-woman who was reviling the American troops, and passed through the room where Phillips lay.  “Will they not let me die in peace?” he asked.  Arnold was also in danger, one of the balls passing near him; and, by his orders, Phillips and all the household were removed into the cellar.  General Phillips was afterwards taken to another house, where he died on the 13th.  It is in his memoranda of this affair at Petersburg that Lafayette records the fact that his father died at Minden from one of the shots of Phillips’s batteries.