Thus she spoke, for no one imagined at this time that Virginia would soon become the center of activities. And so chatting they crossed the river, and by noon were in Chester, where they baited their horses and refreshed themselves for the afternoon journey.
It was spring. The smooth road wound beneath the budding foliage of the forest. The air was fresh and balmy, and laden with the perfume of flowers and leaves. The sky was blue, and Peggy followed with delight the flight of a hawk across its azure. Robins flew about merrily, with red breasts shaken by melodious chirpings, and brilliant plumage burnished by the sunlight. The maiden began to feel a keen enjoyment of the drive, and chatted and laughed with an abandon foreign to her usual quiet demeanor.
They lay at Wilmington, Delaware, that night, and early the next morning were up and away again. Mindful of her new diary Peggy recorded her impressions of the country through which she passed for the benefit of her friends of The Social Select Circle.
“The country is beautiful,” she wrote enthusiastically on the fourth day of her journey after passing from Wilmington through Newcastle, and Head of the Elk, and crossing the Susquehanna River. “Though it seems to me more sandy than Pennsylvania. I think this must arise from being so near the coast. The Susquehanna is very broad at this crossing, but it cannot compare with the Delaware for limpidness and whiteness. Nor are its banks so agreeable in appearance. To-morrow we enter Baltimore, which I long to see, for Nurse Johnson says ’tis a monstrously fine city.
“‘And is thee going to tell us naught but about the country, Peggy?’ I hear thee complain, Betty Williams. Know then, thou foolish Betty, that the ‘Silent Knight,’ as thee dubbed him, hath not yet broken that silence. Each morning he bows very gravely and deeply. Oh, a most ornate obeisance! Thee should see it. This I return in my best manner, and the ceremony for the day is over. If he hath aught to communicate he seeks his mother at the inns where we stop for refreshments. Truly he is a lad beset by shyness.
“‘And where is thy tongue, Peggy?’ I hear thee ask.
“Well, it may be that I shall use it if he does not speak soon. Such shyness doth engender boldness in us females. Will that please thee, thou saucy Betty?”
“Although,” soliloquized Peggy when she had made this entry, “it may not be shyness at all, but wisdom. I have heard mother say that wise men are not great talkers, so when the young man does speak I make no doubt but that his words will be full of matter. I must remember them verbatim, and set them down for the edification of The Circle.”
They reached Baltimore that night instead of the next day; at so late an hour there was no time to see the little city. It was one of the most important places in the new states at this time, ranking after Philadelphia and Boston in size, and growing rapidly, having been made a port of entry the year before. There was a quarter composed entirely of Acadian families speaking nothing but French, Nurse Johnson told her, and Peggy made a particular note of the fact for Betty’s delectation.
“Perchance when I return I can see more of it,” said the maiden philosophically as they were getting ready for their departure early the next morning.