“Ay, we were then of that troop, Captain Winwood and I.  ’Twas for his conduct in that affair, his valour and skill in saving the remnant of the troop, that he was put, t’other day, in command of an independent company.  I may take some pride in having helped him to this honour; for his work the night General Grey surprised us was done so quietly, and his report made so little of his own share in the business, ’twould have gone unrecognised, but for my account of it.  Though, to be sure, General Washington said afterward, in my hearing, that such bravery and sagacity, coupled with such modesty, were only what he might expect of Captain Winwood.”

Cornelius had shared Philip’s fortunes since their departure from New York.  When Winwood fell wounded in the snow, between the two blockhouses at the foot of the cliff, that night the rebels met defeat at Quebec, the pedagogue remained to succour him, and so was taken prisoner with him.  He afterward helped nurse him in the French religious house, in the walled “upper town,” to which the rebel wounded were conveyed.

Upon the exchange of prisoners, Philip, having suffered a relapse, was unable to accompany his comrades homeward, and Cornelius stayed to care for him.  There was a Scotchwoman who lived upon a farm a few miles West of Quebec, and whose husband was serving on our side as one of Colonel Maclean’s Royal Highlanders.  She took Winwood and the pedagogue into her house as guests, trusting them till some uncertain time in the future might find them able to pay.

When at last Philip dared hazard the journey, the rebel siege of Quebec, which had continued in a half-hearted manner until Spring brought British reinforcements up the river in ship-loads, had long been raised, and the rebels had long since flown.  Provided by Governor Carleton with the passports to which in their situation they were entitled, the two started for New York, bound by way of the St. Lawrence, the Richelieu, the lakes, and the Hudson.  It was now Winter, and only Winwood’s impatience to resume service could have tempted them to such a journey in that season.

They came part way afoot, receiving guidance now from some solitary fur-capped courier du bois clad in skins and hoofed with snow-shoes, now from some peaceful Indian, now from the cowled brothers of, some forest monastery which gave them a night’s shelter also.  Portions of the journey they made upon sledges driven by poor habitans dwelling in the far-apart villages or solitary farmhouses.  At other times they profited by boats and canoes, propelled up the St. Lawrence by French peasants, befringed hunters, or friendly red men.  Their entertainment and housing were sometimes from such people as I have mentioned; sometimes of their own contriving, the woods furnishing game for food, fagots for fuel, and boughs for roof and bedding.