“Pryndale, Va., March 28th, 1775.
“Dear Aunt Harriet:––I threw away my crutches this morning, and tried to celebrate by dancing a jig. I’m sure I should have succeeded to my later sorrow but for Aunt Betty’s horrified look, whereupon I sat down to write you instead.
“Lawrence Enderwood thought Pryndale prosy and I had begun to believe him when lo, two highwaymen set upon us; a knight errant mounted on a splendid steed rides to the rescue; Firefly takes fright and runs away with a helpless maiden hanging by one foot to the stirrup, and both hands in the mane, expecting every moment to be dashed in pieces and actually thinking of every wicked thing she ever did; my, but it was an awful panorama! A snorting steed is heard in pursuit, the knight errant spurs him on and seizes the bridle of the running horse, rescues the hapless maiden, who has discovered that she is so wicked she wants to live, and then, mirabile dictu! the knight errant is discovered to be no less a personage than one Rodney Allison. Excuse me, Auntie, if I express the opinion that you’ve not brought him up right; he’s too shy and actually had to be urged to call on his old playmate. Seriously, I would have seen him before he fled, had I known he was there. Aunt Betty didn’t tell me. You don’t know what a shock it was to papa and me, the news Rodney brought of the death of Uncle David. I turned my face to the wall and cried, which as you may know I’m not in the habit of doing. Not till after he had left Pryndale did I realize what 178 I owed to him. He was much superior to any teacher I had in London and he was so patient and kindly with us, imps that we were.
“Since you left Pryndale things seem much changed and for the worse. Papa is all out of sorts with what he terms the disloyalty of the people. He insists we are being driven into a wicked war by a few hot-headed men together with those who are so ambitious they would sacrifice their country. I wish I knew the right of it. People who used to be friendly now look the other way. Only the other day Gobber’s urchins were playing by the road when I rode past their cabin and the dirty imps made faces and cried out, ‘Tory, I hate Tories.’
“Next month papa and I are going to Philadelphia and he may later sail for London. Somehow, it seems to me as if I weren’t coming back. I suppose being shut up in the house with my sprained ankle makes me spleeny. Write me in the Quaker city, won’t you, and address care of my uncle, Jacob Derwent. Now don’t forget.
“But I know I have tired you already, so here’s good-bye and my regards to Rodney, not forgetting Nat, splendid fellow.
“Your affectionate niece,
“Elizabeth Danesford.”
Rodney and Angus arrived at Williamsburg April 19th, the very day the Massachusetts minute men were hanging on the flanks of the running British like 179 so many angry hornets. The following day, the minute men of that part of Virginia were to be aroused by a similar cause, the attempt of the representatives of England to get possession of the colony’s powder.
It will be remembered that it was in the night that the British troops sneaked out of Boston to go after the powder stored at Concord. It was also in the night that the royal governor, Lord Dunmore, secretly removed the powder from the old arsenal in Williamsburg and put it aboard the British vessel Magdalen in the York River. The British in Boston didn’t get the powder, but Dunmore’s men did, only there were but fifteen half-barrels of it.