1 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Mama is going to set me sums and lessons to do each morning. I must also read a book each week. I asked her if the first one could be Sense and Sensibility and she laughed and gave her permission. It is even better the second time, and I can hardly tear myself away from it. Maria is also supposed to read, but I predict that she will not.
2 September 1812
Dear Constance,
It has been raining heavily and I keep having to replace the containers we put out to catch the rainwater. Because I am trying to save the chickens, and because we are still having to eat our way through the salmon, I have set some snares for rabbits.
3 September 1812
Dear Constance,
I caught a rabbit! It pained me to lift its soft lifeless form, but if I get two more Tabitha will make rabbit pie, my favourite meal.
It rained all day.
4 September 1812
Dear Constance,
More rain. I caught two more rabbits, so I shall have my pie. Maria says I am turning into a boy, with all my fishing and snares. That made me cross at her, for I am only trying to help. Besides, she fishes also! We went again and came home with two more salmon.
5 September 1812
Dear Constance,
It rains and it rains. I get so muddy and wet when I take out the cows that I have to change my clothes afterwards. We ground the dried herbs and sealed them in crocks, then I worked on a shirt I am making for Hamilton. How I wish he could be here to try it on! Mama is teaching us whist, but I tire of it. She is very worried about Caroline, whose confinement is drawing near.
I miss Abbie so much and wonder what she is doing. Mama has given up asking why I do not visit her.
6 September 1812
Dear Constance,
As it was not raining for once, we made soft soap in the yard, even though it is Sunday. Mama says we have to do it while we can and that God would understand.
Tabitha added the lye to the grease in the cauldron, then we cooked it all day. I was given the job of checking the surface and adding more fat when it stopped looking greasy. Finally Mama put a dipperful in a saucer and declared it done, it now being a bright brown. We ladled the soap into tubs and pails and put it in the cellar to cool.
I am utterly dejected that all I have to write about is making soap.
7 September 1812
Dear Constance,
We received a letter from Papa, but there was nothing in it that we did not already know — all he wrote about was the Detroit victory and the armistice. If there is no fighting, why cannot he and Hamilton visit us again?
This morning we emptied all the cooled soap into a barrel. Tabitha keeps reminding me to give it a stir every time I pass it.
Then we had to make candles for the winter. It is very disagreeable to cut up the rancid animal fat and melt it down into tallow. Also, I got very tired of dipping the rods of strings into the tallow. I much prefer pouring the tallow into moulds, but Maria claimed that task.
We ended up with forty dozen candles. I will be glad to have them, now that it is getting too dark in the evening to write to you without one.
8 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Something very exciting has happened — Samuel is here! Early this morning I found him hiding in the barn, very tired and dirty, and dressed in ragged clothing. He asked me to fetch Tabitha. She was so shocked when I told her that she dropped the pan into the fire.
I sat in suspense at the kitchen table. Tabitha rushed in to get some bread and cheese to take to Samuel. After a long time she returned again.
She cautioned me to be silent as Mama and Maria came down to breakfast. Then I had to do my lessons, and then it was dinnertime. After it Tabitha took me aside and I heard the whole story.
Samuel ran away from the militia to New York State. He could have stayed there, but he returned to get Tabitha. He wants her to go back to New York with him and be married.
Tabitha is stunned by this, as am I. She will not tell me what she will do, but only begs me to keep Samuel a secret.
Will Tabitha leave us? I cannot bear it, yet I also want her to be happy. Thus I feel torn in two. If only they could be married and stay here! But then Samuel would be in as much danger of being caught as Mr. Seabrook. And of course, Papa would never allow it.
9 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Samuel is still hiding in the barn and Tabitha has still not told me what she will do. I am helping her take food to him. He is a shy man and ducks his head while he mumbles his thanks.
We spent all day picking beets, cucumbers, carrots and turnips, then packing them in barrels for the root cellar. Both Tabitha and I were so quiet that Mama asked us if we were ill. I am ill, with anxiety about Tabitha’s decision. I long to ask her what it is, yet I do not, in fear of her answer.
10 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Samuel has left. Tabitha did not go with him. She told him she could not live in the country that is fighting her King, and could not leave us to cope in the war by ourselves. I am touched that she is so loyal to our family.
Tonight in the kitchen she put her head down on the table and wept for the first time since I have known her. All I could do was pat her shuddering shoulders in sympathy. I feel so grieved for her. Yet, selfishly, I am also relieved she is not to leave.
Perhaps Samuel will return after the war. We do not know if there is still an armistice, but perhaps that means the war will not last for long. I told these things to Tabitha but I could not cheer her.
11 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Tabitha goes through the day as calmly as if nothing has happened. She is so brave. Every morning, however, her eyes are red from weeping — she told Mama she has a cold.
We are bringing wood into the house to prepare for the cold weather. Thankfully, Hamilton has left us a large store of it. Tabitha taught me how to split kindling, but I am not strong enough to do it well. Mama says Maria must cut it instead. To my surprise, she did this without grumbling. The war is making her less lazy.
12 September 1812
Dear Constance,
All day we picked corn. My fingers are numb and my nose extremely sunburnt.
I am very cross with Maria because she tore a page out of this journal to write to Charles. I am more than halfway through it and every page is precious. I also worry that Maria has read it, although she assures me she has not. The only person I will allow to read this journal is Hamilton. If I think of him writing in his journal tonight, perhaps on a battlefield, I cannot help weeping a little.
13 September 1812
Dear Constance,
I cannot write down quickly enough what happened today.
Abbie came over! She was very hot when she arrived. After she had a drink I took her out to the swing.
She told me that her father’s absence has been discovered! He has received a notice that if he does not pay a fine for deserting he will be arrested. The fine is twenty pounds.
“We do not have that much money!” Abbie sobbed. “Oh, poor Papa!”
She wept and wept. Mama came out to the well and asked what was the matter. Abbie could not help herself and told her everything.
Mama took her into the kitchen and washed her face. Then she told us to wait there. A few minutes later she came downstairs with a packet in her hand.
“Here is enough money, Abbie,” she said. “Have your father use it to pay the fine.”
I gasped and asked her how she had her own money. She said she brought it with her from South Carolina years ago and has kept it hidden in her bedroom for an emergency.
Abbie could not believe her generosity. Mama said she was glad to help a fellow countryman. Then she solemnly made us promise never to tell Papa.
I took Abbie home on Sukie and left her at the top of their road. How fast she ran to show her parents the money! I went home slowly, full of bewilderment.
I am proud of what Mama has done. But she and Papa have always agreed on everything. He would be so angry if he knew and I would hate to see strife between them. I desperately hope he never finds out.
Tonight Mama took me aside and said we would never speak of this again. “It is something I had to do, but you are not to worry about it,” she said. I kissed her, marvelling at her courage.
14 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Mr. Seabrook rode over to thank Mama for the money. He says he will start paying it back to her next year, when he sells his first wheat. Then he slaughtered some hogs for us. He also asked me to visit again any time I wished, so I will go tomorrow. I wonder if he will now return to the war?
Tabitha is still dejected. She never hums at her work as she used to and she does not tell us stories any more. Mama asked her what was wrong but Tabitha was silent.
Of course I could say nothing. So I have two heavy secrets, that of Tabitha and Samuel, and that of Mama giving the money to Mr. Seabrook.
15 September 1812
Dear Constance,
I spent all afternoon at Abbie’s and did the usual things — helped her with her chores, entertained Paul and Johnny and worked on the dolls. Doing ordinary things is so precious.
We had a lot to catch up on since August. Abbie was full of awe as I told her about General Brock’s visit and hiding Samuel. I did not tell her about Ellis. I am too worried she will tease me about him.
Abbie said a British soldier came this morning and Mr. Seabrook gave him Mama’s money. If he had not, he would have had to go away with him. Now she thinks he is safe, because there is another furlough for all the men.
Does that mean that Papa and Hamilton will visit us again? Mr. Seabrook was swinging Paul and Johnny high in the air as I was leaving. Papa used to do that with me.
16 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Tonight I found that Maria had torn another page out of my journal! I was very angry and threatened to tell Mama. Then I said something cruel, which I regret. I told her it was not proper for her to write to Charles when they have no understanding.
Maria started weeping and said she knew she could not send the letters, but that it soothed her to write to Charles anyway. “It makes me feel I can talk to him,” she sobbed. “And after the war perhaps we will have an understanding. Then I can give him what I wrote and he will know how much I missed him.”
How I sympathize with that, Constance! Writing things down is soothing. I have gone through so many conflicting feelings since this war began. If I could not tell them to you I think I would burst.
Maria is so smitten with Charles and is so sure that one day he will ask for her hand, that I could not be vexed with her any longer. I told her I would give her one blank page a week, and that she could use my pens and beet ink if she helped me to make more when they ran out. But I begged her to write as small as she could. It is impossible to get paper right now and I do not want to have to stop writing to you.
17 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Tonight I sat on the swing in the dusk. Jack was sleeping and Mouse slowly crept up on him, pouncing on his tail. He is so used to her he only wags it briefly. The cicadas were as loud as an orchestra and the fireflies swooped in the darkening air. Pigeons cooed drowsily in the trees. The sunflowers I planted in the spring are taller than I am.
I never want to leave my home, and I pray that this wretched war will never destroy its peace.
18 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Tabitha has cheered up a bit. She says she will trust in God and pray that the end of the war brings Samuel back to her. Then she told me my favourite story, “Tom Tit Tot.” It made me laugh so hard my stomach hurt.
I have finished all three volumes of Sense and Sensibility and I liked it even better the second time. I think I resemble sensible Elinor and that Maria is as foolish as Marianne. I told her this and she said I was foolish to say so. She was washing and I flicked water on her from the jug. We had a spirited water fight until Mama came in. She scolded us for getting damp and told us to go to bed.
19 September 1812
Dear Constance,
I asked Mama if she thought Papa and Hamilton would come home on leave. She said that because they were officers they probably could not get away. When I told her how much I missed them, she replied that she did too, and reminded me that we must all be brave.
I am so tired of having to be brave and cheerful! Sometimes I would like to shout out my rage at this war. But of course I cannot.
20 September 1812
Dear Constance,
The usual frustratingly short letter from Papa arrived, with no real news. The soldier who delivered it was David Putnam, who was in school with me three years ago. I tried to get him to tell me more about my father and brother but he just looked haughty and said, “I cannot tell you anything.” How puffed up he was!
The weather is getting cooler and today I wore my flannel petticoat. We had roast pork for dinner and are very thankful to Mr. Seabrook.
Abbie and I have finished our family of dolls. There are five of them, a mother, father, girl, boy and baby. Each looks very handsome in the clothes we sewed.
Maria says I am spending too much time playing and should be doing my home sewing instead of sewing for dolls.
“You sound like Caroline,” I told her.
That made her cross. “I only want you to help me with the new quilt,” she answered. “It is not fair that I am working on it by myself.”
I suppose she is right, but I do not have to listen to her. Unless Mama objects I will continue to spend time with Abbie.
21 September 1812
Dear Constance,
As well as our wheat, we are going to lose most of our apples, for there is no way for us to pick all of them. Every day we bring in as many baskets as we can manage, but most lie rotting on the ground.
Mama decided not to try to harvest the barley and rye, since even with Mr. Seabrook’s help we would not be able to do much of it. This is a great worry — if the war goes on our food supply will be gone, and what will we do then?
I noticed that my dress was getting short so I measured myself on the door frame. I have finally grown — two whole inches! In sixteen days I will be twelve. Perhaps Papa will get me a horse for my birthday.
But of course Papa is not here and there is a war and my birthday has no importance.
22 September 1812
Dear Constance,
There is no time for lessons or sewing or playing with Abbie. We did nothing all day but make applesauce and apple cider. Mr. Seabrook came over in his wagon to fetch several baskets of apples we are giving them. He killed another pig for us and Maria and I caught some more salmon. Mama is proud of how well we have managed so far, but she is still worried about having enough food to last the winter.
23 September 1812
Dear Constance,
I helped Tabitha smoke some hams. Then I took a bucket into the forest and collected a honeycomb from a hive I found in the spring. The bees hovered around me but I wound a veil around my face and did not get stung.
When I have time to read I struggle with Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, a very long book that Papa had as a boy. It is a history of the church with an account of the people who were martyred for it. I must admit I find it difficult and dry, especially after Sense and Sensibility.
24 September 1812
Dear Constance,
Mama told me I did not have to read the Book of Martyrs any longer, that I am too young for it. Instead I have begun her volume of Scott’s poetry. When I come in from picking vegetables I snatch a few lines of it, which I enjoy very much.
The Book of Martyrs was one of Caroline’s favourites. We are thinking a lot of her, since her baby is due in a month. I deeply regret how thoughtless I was when she was here — I feel much older now. I miss her. How incredible it is that she will soon be a mother, and Maria and I aunts!
We pickled several barrels of onions and cucumbers. It is hard to believe winter is approaching, since the weather has turned warm again.
25 September 1812
Dear Constance,
We do not know if there is still an armistice — we never hear any news. But no news is good news, Mama says.
Abbie and I went for a long ride on Sukie, with Jack prancing beside us. The trees are changing to vibrant shades of red and orange. We talked about General Brock and Tecumseh. “Surely we will beat the Americans with these two heroes to lead us,” I said.
“I am an American,” Abbie reminded me sharply.
I could not reply. All my confusion came rushing back. I thought of Catherine, now in New York State, and how Hamilton, who loves her, has to fight her countrymen. I thought of how loyal Papa and Tabitha are to the King, how Mama helped Mr. Seabrook not to fight, and how Samuel returned to his own country.
Who am I loyal to? I do not know, and that is why I say again that this is a confusing war.
26 September 1812
Dear Constance,
I have nothing to tell you except that we have spent all day preserving fruit. I am also worried that I have used up well over half of this book, since I have had to sacrifice pages to Maria.
Thus I have decided that, despite my promise to Hamilton, I will only write when I have something important to say. The next time I see Hamilton — when, dear God, will that be? — I will ask him to get me another book.