Another penman, very different from the military critic, was also on the spot, noting down every day what he saw and felt.  This was John Graham, minister of Suffield, in Connecticut, and now chaplain of Lyman’s regiment.  His spirit, by nature far from buoyant, was depressed by bodily ailments, and still more by the extremely secular character of his present surroundings.  It appears by his Diary that he left home “under great exercise of mind,” and was detained at Albany for a time, being, as he says, taken with an ague-fit and a quinsy; but at length he reached the camp at Fort Edward, where deep despondency fell upon him.  “Labor under great discouragements,” says the Diary, under date of July twenty-eighth; “for find my business but mean in the esteem of many, and think there’s not much for a chaplain to do.”  Again, Tuesday, August seventeenth:  “Breakfasted this morning with the General.  But a graceless meal; never a blessing asked, nor thanks given.  At the evening sacrifice a more open scene of wickedness.  The General and head officers, with some of the regular officers, in General Lyman’s tent, within four rods of the place of public prayers.  None came to prayers; but they fixed a table without the door of the tent, where a head colonel was posted to make punch in the sight of all, they within drinking, talking, and laughing during the whole of the service, to the disturbance and disaffection of most present.  This was not only a bare neglect, but an open contempt, of the worship of God by the heads of this army.  ’Twas but last Sabbath that General Lyman spent the time of divine service in the afternoon in his tent, drinking in company with Mr. Gordon, a regular officer.  I have oft heard cursing and swearing in his presence by some provincial field-officers, but never heard a reproof nor so much as a check to them come from his mouth, though he never uses such language himself.  Lord, what is man!  Truly, the May-game of Fortune!  Lord, make me know my duty, and what I ought to do!”

That night his sleep was broken and his soul troubled by angry voices under his window, where one Colonel Glasier was berating, in unhallowed language, the captain of the guard; and here the chaplain’s Journal abruptly ends.[419]

[Footnote 419:  I owe to my friend George S. Hale, Esq., the opportunity of examining the autograph Journal; it has since been printed in the Magazine of American History for March, 1882.]

A brother minister, bearing no likeness to the worthy Graham, appeared on the same spot some time after.  This was Chaplain William Crawford, of Worcester, who, having neglected to bring money to the war, suffered much annoyance, aggravated by what he thought a want of due consideration for his person and office.  His indignation finds vent in a letter to his townsman, Timothy Paine, member of the General Court:  “No man can reasonably expect that I can with any propriety discharge the duty of a chaplain when I have nothing