The provincials were happy in their chaplains, among whom there reigned a marvellous harmony, Episcopalians, Presbyterians, and Congregationalists meeting twice a week to hold prayer-meetings together.  “A rare instance indeed,” says Dr. Rea, “and perhaps scarce ever was an army blessed with such a set of chaplains before.”  On one occasion, just before the fatal expedition, nine of them, after prayers and breakfast, went together to call upon the General.  “He treated us very kindly,” says the chaplain of Bagley’s, “and told us that he hoped we would teach the people to do their duty and be courageous; and told us a story of a chaplain in Germany, where he was, who just before the action told the soldiers he had not time to say much, and therefore should only say:  ‘Be courageous; for no cowards go to heaven.’  The General treated us to a bowl of punch and a bottle of wine, and then we took our leave of him."[640]

[Footnote 640:  For the use of the Diary of Chaplain Cleaveland, as well as of his letters to his wife, I am indebted to the kindness of Miss Abby E. Cleaveland, his descendant.]

When Cleaveland and the more gifted among his brethren preached of a Sunday, officers and men of the regulars, no less than the provincials, came to listen; yet that pious Sabbatarian, Dr. Rea, saw much to afflict his conscience.  “Sad, sad it is to see how the Sabbath is profaned in the camp,” above all by “the horrid custom of swearing, more especially among the regulars; and I can’t but charge our defeat on this sin.”

It would have been well had the harmony that prevailed among the chaplains found its counterpart among the men of the sword; but between the British regular officers and those of the provinces there was anything but an equal brotherhood.  It is true that Pitt, in the spirit of conciliation which he always showed towards the colonies, had procured a change in the regulations concerning the relative rank of British and provincial officers, thus putting them in a position much nearer equality; but this, while appeasing the provincials, seems to have annoyed the others.  Till the campaign was nearly over, not a single provincial colonel had been asked to join in a council of war; and, complains Cleaveland, “they know no more of what is to be done than a sergeant, till the orders come out.”  Of the British officers, the greater part had seen but little active service.  Most of them were men of family, exceedingly prejudiced and insular, whose knowledge of the world was limited to certain classes of their own countrymen, and who looked down on all others, whether domestic or foreign.  Towards the provincials their attitude was one of tranquil superiority, though its tranquillity was occasionally disturbed by what they regarded as absurd pretension on the part of the colony officers.  One of them gave vent to his feelings in an article in the London Chronicle, in which he advanced the very reasonable proposition that “a farmer