Fifth day, December 11th.—Our army mov'd, as we thought, to go into winter quarters; but we hear there is a party of the enemy gone over Schuylkill; so our army went to look at them! I observ'd to Stodard, "So you are going to leave us to the English!" "Yes! ha! ha! hah! leave you for the E——-!" He has a certain indifference about him that, to strangers, is not very pleasing. He sometimes is silent for minutes. One of these silent fits was interrupted the other day by his clasping his hands, and exclaiming aloud, "Oh, my God, I wish this war was at an end!"
Noon.—The Major gone to camp. I don't think we shall see him again. Well, strange creature that I am! here have I been going on without giving thee an account of two officers,—one who will be a principal character; their names are Capt. Lipscomb and a Mr. Tilly; the former a tall, genteel man, very delicate from indisposition, and has a softness in his countenance that is very pleasing, and has the finest head of hair that I ever saw; 'tis a light shining auburn. The fashion of his hair was this,—negligently ty'd and waving down his back. Well may it be said,
"Loose flow'd the soft redundance of his hair."
"Loose flow'd the soft redundance of his hair."
He has not hitherto shown himself a lady's man, tho' he is perfectly polite.
Now let me attempt a character of Tilly. He seems a wild, noisy mortal, tho' I am not much acquainted with him. He appears bashful when with girls. We dissipated the Major's bashfulness; but I doubt we have not so good a subject now. He is above the common size, rather genteel, an extreme pretty, ruddy face, hair brown and a sufficiency of it, a very great laugher, and talks so excessively fast that he often begins a sentence without finishing the last, which confuses him very much, and then he blushes and laughs; and, in short, he keeps me in perpetual good humour; but the creature has not address'd one civil thing to me since he came! But I have not done with his accomplishments yet, for he is a musician,—that is, he plays on the German flute, and has it here.
Fifth day night.—The family retir'd; take the adventures of the afternoon as they occur'd. Seaton and Capt. Lipscomb drank tea with us. While we sat at tea the parlour door was open'd; in came Tilly; his appearance was elegant; he had been riding; the wind had given the most beautiful glow to his cheeks, and blow'd his hair carelessly round his cheeks. Oh, my heart, thought I, be secure! The caution was needless; I found it without a wish to stray.
When the tea equipage was remov'd, the conversation turn'd on politicks,—a subject I avoid. I gave Betsy a hint; I rose, she followed, and we went to seek Lyddy. We chatted a few moments at the door; the moon shone with uncommon splendour; our spirits were high. I proposed a walk; the girls agreed. When we reach'd the Poplar-tree we stopp'd. Our ears were assailed by a number of voices. "A party of light horse," said one; "the English, perhaps; let's run home." "No, no," said I; "be heroines." At last two or three men on horseback came in sight. We walked on. The well-known voice of the Major saluted our hearing with, "How do you do, ladies!" We turn'd ourselves about with one accord. He, not relishing the idea of sleeping on the banks of the Schuylkill, had return'd to the Mill. We chatted along the road till we reach'd our hospitable mansion. Stodard dismounted and went into Jesse's parlour. I sat there a half-hour. He is very amiable. Lipscomb, Seaton, Tilly, and my father, hearing of his return, and impatient for the news, came in at one door, while I made my exit at the other.
I am vex'd at Tilly, who has his flute, and does nothing but play the fool. He begins a tune, plays a note or so, then stops. Well, after a while he begins again; stops again: "Will that do, Seaton? Hah! hah! hah!" He has given us but two regular tunes since he arriv'd. I am passionately fond of music. How boyish he behaves!
Sixth day, December 12th, 1777.—I run into aunt's this morning to chat with the girls. Major Stodard join'd us in a few minutes. I verily believe the man is fond of the ladies, and, what to me is astonishing, he has not display'd the smallest degree of pride. Whether he is artful enough to conceal it under the veil of humility, or whether he has none, is a question; but I am inclined to think it the latter. I really am of opinion that there is few of the young fellows of the modern age exempt from vanity, more especially those who are bless'd with exterior graces. If they have a fine pair of eyes, they are forever rolling them about; a fine set of teeth, mind, they are great laughers; a genteel person, forever changing their attitudes to show them to advantage. Oh, vanity! vanity! how boundless is thy sway!