FullReads

“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 apron 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.

“Not waiting for a second word, Tilly darted like lightning out at the front door, through the yard, bolted o’er the fence. Swamps, fences, thorn-hedges and ploughed fields no way impeded his retreat. He was soon out of hearing.

“The woods echoed with, ‘Which way did he go? Stop him! Surround the house!’ Lipscomb had his hand on the latch, intending to attempt his escape. Stoddard, acquainted him with the deceit.

“‘Major Stoddard,’ said I, ‘Go call Tilly back. He will lose himself,–indeed he will.’ Every word interrupted with a Ha! Ha!

“At last he rose and went to the door and what a loud voice could avail in bringing him back, he tried.

“Figure to thyself this Tilly, of a snowy evening, no hat, shoes down at the heel, hair unty’d, flying across meadows, creeks and mud holes. Flying from what? Why, a bit of painted wood.

“After a while our bursts of laughter being less frequent yet by no means subsided; in full assembly of girls and officers, Tilly entered.

“The greatest part of my responsibility turned to pity. Inexpressible confusion had taken entire possession of his countenance, his fine hair hanging dishevelled down his shoulders, all splashed with mud, yet his fright, confusion and race had not divested him of his beauty. He smiles as he trips up the steps, briskly walked five or six steps, then stopped and took a general survey of us all.

“‘Where have you been, Mr. Tilly?’ asked one officer. (We girls were silent.)

“‘I really imagined,’ said Stoddard, ‘that you were gone for your pistols. I follow’d you to prevent danger,’ an excessive laugh at each question, which it was impossible to restrain.

“‘Pray, where are your pistols, Tilly?’

“He broke his silence by the following expression, ‘You may all go to the devil!'” In recording this, Sally somewhat shocked says, “I never heard him utter an indecent expression before.”

“At last his good nature gained a complete ascendance over his anger, and he joined heartily in the laugh. Stoddard caught hold of his coat. ‘Come, look at what you ran from,’ he exclaimed, and dragged him to the door.

“Tilly gave it a look, said it was very natural, and by the singularity of his expression gave fresh cause for diversion. We all retired,–for to rest our faces,–if I may say so.

“Well, certainly these military folk will laugh all night. Such screaming I never did hear. Adieu to-night.”

Such incidents as that did good service in giving a touch of humour to the soldiers’ duller duties when in camp, and the vivid picture of Tilly and the grenadier comes down to us through the years as a refreshing incident of Revolutionary days.

On the next day Sally writes, “I am afraid they will yet carry the joke too far. Tilly certainly possesses an uncommon share of good nature or he could not tolerate these frequent teasings.” Then she adds what is most important of all,–