were drawing to a close. Peace had already been ratified; and, shortly after the news of that event arrived, he received permission to take a last farewell of the actual service of a calling which was as uncongenial with the aspirations of his soul as any of the scenes of his former life had been. The permit-perhaps it should be called a discharge-is in this form: "Burlington, June 18, 1815. "Capt. W. Miller has permission to depart till further orders, he having complied with the General Orders, as respects the five year men. By command, "JNO. H. BURTON, "Lt. & Adj't 30th Inf'y." A few reflections on this period of Mr. Miller's life, and the mention of an incident or two of some interest, must close this chapter. Everybody is familiar with the fact, that the army is a bad school of morality. Intemperance, licentiousness, gambling, fighting, stealing, profanity, and Sabbath-breaking, are the common vices of army life. It was the constant practice of these vices by those around him, which sickened Mr. Miller of their society. And that he should escape entirely from the contamination, would be too much to expect. However, it is both a matter of surprise, and highly creditable to him, that his moral integrity and habits were not affected to a hopeless extent. There were, however, some redeeming traits to the too generally dark moral picture of army life. There were a few men in the 30th regiment of infantry who were known as men of prayer, and undoubted piety. And an incident in their history, which Mr. Miller has often spoken of with great interest, should be mentioned. One of these praying men, if memory has not failed in the case, was Sergeant Willey. His tent was occasionally used for the purpose of holding a prayer-meeting. On one of these occasions, when Mr. Miller was 66 the officer for the day," he saw a light in this tent, and, wishing to know what was going on, as his duty required, he drew near, and heard the voice of prayer. He said nothing at the time; but, the next day, on recollecting it, he thought it was a good oppor tunity to try the sergeant's piety, and indulge his own relish for a joke, by calling Sergeant Willey to account for having his tent occupied by a gambling party the night before. When the sergeant appeared, Captain Miller affected great seriousness, and spoke in a tone bordering on severity, as follows: -"You know, Sergeant Willey, that it is contrary to the army regulations to have any gambling in the tents at night. And I was very sorry to see your tent lit up, for that purpose, last night. We cannot have any gambling at such times. You must put a stop to it at once. I hope I shall not have to speak to you again about it!" The poor sergeant stood thunderstruck, for a moment, to hear such an imputation cast on himself and his associates. And then, hardly daring to look up, he replied, with the most touching simplicity, and in a manner which showed that he was alike unwilling to suffer the scandal of entertaining gamblers, or to make a parade of his devotions, "We were not gambling, sir!" Capt. Miller was touched with his appearance. But, still affecting greater severity than at first, being determined to press him to a confession, he said to the sergeant, "Yes, you were gambling! And it won't do! What else could you have your tent lighted up for, all the evening, if you were not gambling? Sergeant Willey now felt himself under the necessity of being a little more explicit, and answered, in a manner deeply expressive of his grief and innocence, "We were praying, sir!" Capt. Miller, by this time, was almost in tears; and indicating, by a motion of his hand, that he was satisfied, and that the praying sergeant might withdraw, he continued alone for some time, sensibly affected by the courage manifested by these Christians in that ungodly camp, by the becoming deportment of their representative under such a serious scandal, and by the doubtful course he had taken in reference to them. There are but two particulars on which the writer has ever heard a hint that the subject of this memoir became in the least corrupted in his habits, during his connection with the army. On one of these particulars, he has written as follows: "One day in May, 1816, I detected myself in the act of taking the name of God in vain - a habit I had acquired in the service; and I was instantly convicted of its sinfulness." The other vice of his army life was that of gambling, particularly, if not exclusively, in the use of cards. To what extent he indulged the habit, cannot be stated; but, on returning home, at the close of the war, he abandoned the practice totally and forever. Facts might be presented to show that Mr. Miller's stern regard for the principles of personal virtue, and especially his abhorrence of the slightest violation of the laws of chastity, exposed him to the raillery of his less scrupulous, and even shameless, brother officers. It is sufficient to say, what all who have any knowledge of the question will confirm, that his personal integrity and official honor were such, throughout his connection with the army, as to command, in an almost unexampled degree, the respect and affection of all who were under him as an officer, and the hearty confidence and esteem of his official associates. For years after the war closed, it was a common thing for his brethren in arms to turn aside from the great route of travel, five or six miles, only to enjoy a short interview with one to whom they were so strongly attached; and some of the less provident, feeling sure that he would receive them with a sort of fatherly sympathy, which a poor, unfortunate soldier seldom finds in the world, were accustomed to tarry with him some days or weeks at a time. One fact must be mentioned, which will speak more than volumes in behalf of his commanding integrity, as it shows the place he occupied in the respect and confidence of the soldiers. After the war, two members of his company, who lived as neighbors in the extreme northern part of Vermont, had some business difficulties, which grew to be so serious that they could hardly live together as neighbors on speaking terms, to say the least. This was a great affliction to themselves, as brother soldiers, to their families, and to the whole neighborhood. These men had often thought of their former captain, though they were much older than he was, and wished the difficulties could be submitted to his examination and decision. But it was a long way to his residence, and the time and cost of the journey seemed too much to admit of such an arrangement. However, the matter became a source of so much trouble, that the proposition was made by one, and gladly accepted by the other, to visit Captain Miller; to submit the case to him, by telling each his own story, and to abide by his decision. The long journey was performed by these old soldiers separately, as duellists go to the place of single combat. They arrived at Captain Miller's nearly at the same time. Arrangements were made for a hearing. Each told his story. The decision was made known, after all the facts of the case had been duly considered. It was received in good faith by the parties. They took each other cordially by the hand, spent a little time with their captain, and returned to their homes in company, as friends and brothers. These men, now far advanced in life, it is believed are still living. Their names could be given, if it were necessary. Paradoxical as it may appear, some of the most distinguished and honorable soldiers have been the most successful bloodless peace-makers, while, on the other hand, some of the most contemptible cowards, with peaceable pretensions always on their lips, have distinguished themselves by very little besides their successful contrivances to keep all engaged in war with whom they have had to do. Without claiming any special distinction for Mr. Miller on the score of what are styled brilliant achievements in the field of danger, the character of a great lover of peace belonged to him as a distinguishing personal trait. He delighted in peace, naturally; it is not known that he ever intentionally provoked a quarrel; and a considerable number of cases could be cited, in which he has been called to perform the office of a peace-maker, and in the duties of which he has been remarkably successful. But enough. More must be left unwritten than it would be practicable or necessary to write. The watchful Providence which guarded him in the hour of deadly peril; the long-suffering which spared him while neglecting the talents bestowed, or misusing them in rebellion against the Giver; and that wisdom and grace which overruled all the dangers experienced, and the derelictions practised, as in many other persons of distinguished usefulness, demand our hearty adoration. The close of Mr. Miller's military life was to be the commencement of a new era in his history. The circumstances which preceded that change, the means and instrumentalities employed in its accomplishment, and the practical results which immediately followed in the circle of his acquaintance, must be left to another chapter. CHAPTER IV. STUDY OF REMOVAL TO LOW HAMPTON. -HIS CONVERSION. On the retirement of Mr. Miller from the army, he removed his family from Poultney, Vt., to Low Hampton, N. Y., to begin there the occupation of farming. His father had died there, in the year 1812, leaving the homestead encumbered with a mortgage. That was cancelled by Mr. Miller, who permitted his mother to live there, with his brother Solomon, while he purchased for himself another farm, in the neighborhood, about half a mile to the west. This lay mostly above the general level of the valley of the Poultney river, and comprised about two hundred acres of land, with a surface somewhat uneven, and with soil similar to that usually found in sections geologically marked by black slate and limestone. Two miles to the east was the village of Fairhaven, Vt., near the Poultney river; and eight miles to the west, on the southern extremity of Lake Champlain, at the foot of bold, precipitous hills, was the village of Whitehall, N. Y. On this spot, in 1815, Mr. Miller erected a convenient farm-house, similar to those built throughout the interior of New England at that epoch. It was of wood, two stories high, with an ell projecting in the rear. The front and ends were painted white, with green blinds, and the back side was |