"Well, thee may be sure we were sufficiently scared; however, the road was very still till evening. About seven o'clock we heard a great noise. To the door we all went. A large number of waggons with about three hundred of the Philadelphia Militia. They begged for drink and several pushed into the house. One of those that entered was a little tipsy and had a mind to be saucy. I then thought it time for me to retreat, so figure me (mightily scared,) running in at one door and out another, all in a shake with fear, but after a while seeing the officers appeared gentlemanly and the soldiers civil, I call'd reason to my aid. My fears were in some measure dispell'd, tho' my teeth rattled and my hand shook like an aspen leaf. They did not offer to take their quarters with us, so with many blessings and as many adieus they marched off. "I have given thee the most material occurrences of yesterday faithfully."
The next day she and "chicken hearted" Liddy, as Sally called her sister, were very much scared by a false report that the dreaded Hessians, who comprised a large part of the British army, were approaching, had "actually turned into our lane," writes Sally, and she adds "Well, the fright went off," but hearing that the forces were momentarily drawing nearer, she remarks, "I expect soon to be in the midst of one army or t'other." Then while looking for some great happening, she had another fright, for a party of Virginia light horse rode up to the door, and mistaking the red and blue of their uniforms for the British colours, she fled to the shelter of the house, with, as she says, "wings tack'd to my feet."
An interval of several weeks then passed, in which nothing of any great moment happened, as she explains in the brief notes in her diary. Then comes a stirring day to chronicle for Debby's benefit. In the morning she hears "the greatest drumming, fifing and rattling of waggons that ever was heard" and goes a short distance to see the American army as it marches to take a position nearer the city. On that same day comes General Smallwood, commander of the Maryland troops, with his officers, and a large guard of soldiers to the farm, and asks to be allowed to make it his headquarters. Permission having been given by Hannah Foulke, one of the officers wrote over the door:
"Smallwood's Quarters"
to secure the house from straggling soldiers, and then the regiment rode away, leaving a flutter of excitement in the hearts of the girls, at the thought of having such a novel experience as a house full of soldiers. With delightful candour Sally tells us that she and her sister and cousins at once "put on their best dresses" and "put their lips in order for conquest," and then awaited the evening with what patience they could summon. At last the general and his staff and soldiers arrived, when at once the yard and house were in confusion, and glittered with military equipments. A Dr. Gould who was at that time staying with the Wisters, being a friend of General Smallwood's, presented him and his officers ceremoniously to the family of which they were to be a part, and there is no doubt that from soldier to General all looked with covert or open admiration on pretty, saucy Sally, who despite her fear of the military, showed great courage, not to say pleasure, in their near presence!
At once she looked them over, man by man, with a critical eye, and passed judgment on them in her diary, relating, that to her surprise, they seem "very peaceable sort of men," and adds, "they eat like other folks, talk like them, and behave themselves with elegance, so I will not be afraid of them, no I won't," and winds up her letter with, "Adieu. I am going to my chamber to dream, I suppose of bayonets and swords, sashes, guns and epaulets."
On the following day, she writes to Debby, "I dare say thee is impatient to know my sentiments of the officers, so while Somnus embraces them and the house is still, take their characters according to their rank," and then gives a vivid pen picture of each one of the officers, her trenchant description showing her to be no respecter of persons. Major William Truman Stoddard, a nephew of the General, and not much older than Sally herself, she at first describes as appearing "cross and reserved," but her opinion of the young officer materially changes. On the second day of their acquaintance she writes, "Well, here comes the glory, the Major, so bashful, so famous; I at first thought him cross and proud, but I was mistaken. He cannot be extolled for graces of person, but for those of the mind he may be justly celebrated." On the third day, "the Major is very reserv'd, nothing but 'Good morning' or 'your servant,' madam," and she adds that she has heard that he is worth a fortune of thirty thousand pounds, but is so bashful that he can hardly look at the ladies, after which information she roguishly remarks in an aside, "Excuse me, good sir, I really thought you were not clever; if 'tis bashfulness only, we will drive that away!"
At the end of several days, Sally seems to be much interested in the Major, but to have made little headway in getting acquainted with him, and the only entry concerning him is "The Gen'l still here. The Major still bashful."
Then on a Sunday evening when she was playing with her little brother, the Major drew up a chair and began to play with the child too, and Sally says, "One word brought us together and we chatted the greatest part of the evening." This seems to have broken the ice between them completely and two days later while Liddy and Sally were reading she tells us that, "The Major was holding a candle for the Gen'l who was reading a newspaper. He looked at us, turned away his eyes, looked again, put the candlestick down, up he jumped, out of the door he went." But presently he returned and seated himself on the table begging them for a song, which Liddy said Sally could give, and they laughed and talked for an hour and Sally found him "very clever, amiable and polite." In the same letter Sally exclaimed, "Oh, Debby, I have a thousand things to tell thee. I shall give thee so droll an account of my adventures that thee will smile. 'No occasion of that, Sally,' methinks I hear thee say, 'for thee tells me every trifle.' But child, thee is mistaken, for I have not told thee half the civil things that are said of us sweet creatures at General Smallwood's Quarters!" Sly little Mistress Sally!
On the next day, "A polite 'Good morning' from the Major. More sociable than ever. No wonder, a stoic could not resist such affable damsels as we are!"—Conceited little monkey—Again, "the Major and I had a little chat to ourselves this evening. No harm, I assure thee. He and I are friends."