Ten Girls from History Part 4

Debby, who was listening too, nodded, "I remember now I heard Mr.

Hanc.o.c.k tell Mother that the Declaration of Independence was to be proclaimed in public from the State House at noon to-day. Come, perhaps we can hear some of it."

Sally was already half way across the lawn; Debby followed and they climbed from a wheel-barrow up to the top of a wall looking down at the State House yard, and had a fine view of the whole scene. Only a small-sized crowd of citizens was there, for the most conservative Philadelphians purposely did not go to hear it read, while those members of Congress whom the girls could see, looked anxious and ill at ease.

Silently Sally and Debby listened while John Nixon read the mighty phrases of the Declaration and, only half understanding what they heard, they joined in the burst of applause following the last words, "And for the support of this Declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honour."

Then as the crowd began to disperse, the girls climbed down and went back to the cool garden, ignorant of the fact that in later years they would have no more valued memory than that of the hot noon-day of July 7, 1776, when they saw and heard the Declaration of Independence read.

That was only one of the exciting events of those stirring days in which Sally was living, for Philadelphia was then a war centre, and little else was talked about except the movements of the armies and the battles being fought. After the battle of Brandywine, when General Washington made a brave fight to save Philadelphia, but was defeated by the British general, Lord Howe, Sally Wister's father, feeling sure that the British would now occupy Philadelphia, thought the time had come to send his family out of the city. He at once despatched them to the Foulke farm, on the Wissahickon creek, among the hills of Gwynedd, some fifteen miles away from the storm centre of the city. The owner of the farm, Hannah Foulke, was a relation by marriage of the Wisters, and evidently gave up half of her home to them, retaining the other half for her own use, and there the two families lived harmoniously during the following nine months.

But to Mistress Sally the change of residence and the separation from all her friends was not a happy one, and to while away some of its lonely hours she began a series of letters in the form of a diary, for Debby Norris's benefit, and that journal tells us much about the happenings of that memorable epoch in American history, from a young girl's point of view. Soon after the arrival of the Wisters at the farm the peaceful quiet of the place was broken up, for the sights and sounds of war began to be heard even in that remote location, as both armies were marching towards Philadelphia. In the first letter to Debby Sally informs us that on the 24th of September, two Virginia officers stopped at the house, and informed them that the British army had crossed the Schuylkill, and later another person called and said that General Washington and Army were near Potsgrove, and Sally writes to Debby:

"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 pa.s.sed, 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 pa.s.sed 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 a.s.sure thee. He and I are friends."

That letter also recounts the coming of Colonel Guest, who at once fell a victim to the charms of Liddy, in telling which to Debby, Sally remarks, "When will Sally's admirers appear? Ah! that indeed. Why, Sally has not charms sufficient to pierce the heart of a soldier. But still I won't despair. Who knows what mischief I may yet do?"--Ah, yes, little coquette, who knows?

Two days later, she writes, "Liddy, Betsey, Stoddard and myself, seated by the fire chatted away an hour in lively conversation. I can't pretend to write all he said, but he shone in every subject we talked of," and again, "As often as I go to the door, so often have I seen the Major. We chat pa.s.singly, as 'A fine day, Miss Sally,' Yes, very fine, Major.

"Another very charming conversation with the young Marylander, He has by his unexceptionable deportment engaged my esteem."--Lucky Major!

All too soon for the girls at the farm came a command from head-quarters that the Army was to march on to Whitemarsh, and the soldiers' two weeks of playtime was over. On the day before the leave-taking, Liddy, Betsey and Sally, the latter dressed in a white muslin gown, a big bonnet, and long gloves, started down the garden path to take a walk. On the porch stood two officers watching the retreating figures. One was the Major of Sally's fancy, the other a Major Leatherberry, of whom she tersely says, "He is a sensible fellow who will not swing for want of a tongue!"

In describing the incident, Sally says, "As we left the house, I naturally looked back (of course you did, little coquette) when behold, the two majors came fast after us, and begged leave to attend us. No fear of a refusal!" she adds, and together the four young people rambled through the woodland, flaming with autumn tints, by the bank of the overflowing Wissahickon, and Sally says that they shortened the way with lively conversation, and that nothing happened that was not entirely consistent with the strictest rules of politeness and decorum, but tells of pouting when Major Stoddard tried to console her for tearing her muslin petticoat, and of flouting Major Leatherberry, when noticing the locket against her white throat, he gallantly quoted:

"On her white neck a sparkling cross she wore, That Jews might kiss or infidels adore,"

but remarks that as a whole the little excursion was full of delights for each one of the party, and it was the last good time they had together for several weeks, as the farewell came on the next day. Sally and the Major seem to have felt the parting keenly, and Sally acknowledges to Debby, "I am sorry, for when you have been with agreeable people, 'tis impossible not to feel regret when they bid you adieu, perhaps forever. When they leave us we shall be immurred in solitude," adding tersely, "The Major looks dull."--Poor Major!

Later she adds, "It seems strange not to see our house as it used to be.

We are very still. No rattling of waggons, glittering of musquets. The beating of the distant drum is all we hear."

The journal records no other item of special interest for several weeks, except the arrival of two Virginia officers, which somewhat cheers Sally, although she describes them in none too glowing terms. She says, "Warring, an insignificant piece enough. Lee sings prettily and talks a great deal--how good turkey hash and fry'd hominy is!--A pretty discourse to entertain ladies! Nothing lowers a man more in my estimation than talking of eating. Lee and Warring are proficient in this science. Enough of them!"

On the 5th of December, Sally has forgotten all trifling details in a new excitement. She writes, "Oh gracious, Debby, I am all alive with fear. The English have come out to attack (we imagine) our army. They are on Chestnut Hill, our army three miles this side. What will become of us, only six miles distant?

"We are in hourly expectation of an engagement. I fear we shall be in the midst of it. Heaven defend us from so dreadful a sight. The battle of Germantown, and the horrors of that day are recent in my mind. It will be sufficiently dreadful if we are only in hearing of the firing, to think how many of our fellow creatures are plung'd into the boundless ocean of eternity, few of them prepared to meet their fate. But they are summoned before an all merciful Judge from whom they have a great deal to hope." (Dear little Sally, you are not so frivolous, after all!)

Two days later Major Stoddard appeared unexpectedly, to Sally's unconcealed joy. He was looking thin and sick, and was taken care of by Mrs. Foulke, but said if he heard firing, he should go with the troops, sick or well, which Sally calls "heroic," and at once, fearing he may flee hastily, says, "I dressed myself, silk and cotton gown. It is made without an ap.r.o.n. I feel quite awkwardish and prefer the girlish dresses."

The Major improved so rapidly that on the following day he drank tea with the Wisters, and Sally and he had a little private chat, when he promised if there should be a battle to come back with a full account of it. Later in the afternoon firing was distinctly heard, and it was supposed that the opposing armies had begun an engagement. This was Howe's famous demonstration against Washington's position at Whitemarsh, and a general battle was expected by everyone, but nothing occurred except several severe skirmishes. However, at the sound of platoon firing, the Major ordered his horse saddled, and if the firing had not decreased, could not have been dissuaded from going, though still far from strong, and Sally shows great pride in his bravery, as she calls it.

The next day's entry tells Debby, "Rejoice with us, my dear. The British have returned to the city--charming news this!" They reached Philadelphia on that evening, plundering farms on their way, as they marched in. Sally devoutly adds, "May we ever be thankful to the Almighty Disposer of events for his care and protection of us while surrounded with dangers.

"Major went to the army. Nothing for him to do so he returned."

On the following day she writes, "Our Army moved, as we thought to go into Winter quarters, but we hear there is a party of the enemy gone over the Schuylkill, so our Army went to look at them.

"I observed to Stoddard: 'So you are going, to leave us to the English.'

"'Yes, ha, ha, ha! Leave _you_ to the English!'" was his answer, and the glance that accompanied it spoke volumes.

At noon he was gone again, leaving Sally pining for new fields to conquer. She did not have to wait long as there were already at the farm two officers, whom she now deigns to notice, and describes as "A Captain Lips...o...b..and a Mr. Tilly;" the latter she calls, "a wild noisy mortal who appears bashful with girls," and she adds, "We dissipated the Major's bashfulness, but I doubt we have not so good a subject now. He keeps me in perpetual humour but the creature has not addressed one civil thing to me since he came." An incentive to exert all her charms and force a victory, Mistress Sally!

It was now nearly the Christmas season, and Stoddard was again at the farm, for a brief visit, when an amusing incident took place. Sally was sitting in her aunt's parlour with the other girls, darning an ap.r.o.n when Major Stoddard joined them, and began to compliment her on her skill, with the needle.

"Well, Miss Sally, what would you do if the British were to come here?"

he asked.

"Do!" exclaimed Sally, "be frightened just to death!"

He laughed and said he would escape their rage by getting behind the figure of a British grenadier which was upstairs. "Of all things I would like to frighten Tilly with it," he said. "Pray, ladies, let's fix it in his chamber to-night."

"If thee will take all of the blame we will a.s.sist thee," said wary Sally.

"That I will," he replied, and then they made their plan to stand the life-size figure of the grenadier which was of a most martial appearance, at the door which opened into the road (the house had four rooms on a floor with a wide entry running through), with another figure which would add to the deceit. One of the servants was to stand behind them, others to serve as occasion offered.

"After half an hour's converse," Sally says, "in which we raised our expectations to the highest pitch, we parted." On that evening this is what happened, according to Sally's chronicle. She says:--"In the beginning of the event I went to Liddy and begged her to secure the swords and pistols which were in their parlour. The Marylander, hearing our voices joined us. I told him of our proposal. He approved of it and Liddy went in and brought her ap.r.o.n full of swords and pistols.

"When this was done Stoddard joined the officers. We girls went and stood at the first landing of the stairs. The gentlemen were very merry and chatting on public affairs when a negro opened the door, candle in his hand, and said, 'There's somebody at the door that wishes to see you.'

"'Who, all of us?' said Tilly.

"'Yes, sir,' answered the boy.

"They all rose, the Major, as he afterwards said, almost dying with laughter, and walked into the entry. Tilly first, in full expectation of news.

"The first object that struck his view was a British soldier. In a moment his ears were saluted with, 'Is there any rebel officer here?' in a thundering voice.