Sunday 19 Sept. 1812
The night was less cool than previously and woke to a warmer morning.
It was decided that perhaps a nature walk in the cool of the morning might be in order, so therefore, we gathered a party and began straight away. Our line slowly passed the Farnsley-Moremen house and wove around through the gardens to the side. On the far edge of the garden there was a break in the fence that lead outward into a grouping of trees with a path down the middle.
The farther we went, the more of the ladies dropped out of the walk and ventured back, stating a bevy of excuses from 'poison ivy' to 'heat'.
Eventually we made our way away from the trees and into a clearing only to discover that there were only five of us left. Mrs. Dubbeld escorted by Capt. Cushing, Mrs. Mudd and Miss Waterman and myself.
"
I want to run!" Miss Waterman confided in me as she began to slow and let the others move ahead.
I feel certain that my demeanor begged the question, 'why?'.
"It's so open and beautiful here," says she, "I feel the need to run across the field."
"That would he highly improper." says I with eyebrow cocked, and knowing she was of her own mind on the subject, I continued, "I shall not speak a word of it to anyone if you were to do so."
Miss Waterman smiled and clutched at her blue dress to avoid stepping on it as she set off at a fearful pace. As she ran, one of the feathers fell from her upturned straw hat.
I collected it and held it behind my back as I approached the party. The group seemed none the wiser that she had made such a vigourous run.
Covertly, I handed Miss Waterman the feather, saying, "This seems to have become dislodged from your hat by an errant breeze."
The remainder of our party became quite wilted from the heat and decided to turn back toward the house and the shade. Miss Waterman however wanted to proceed to the small chapel we could see in the distance, so I escorted her to it.
The aged little building had long since been boarded up, its windows and doors all shut up. The grass was quite tall around its exterior and the brambles and thorns clung to my knee breeches and to her blue dress's hem.
Tea at 3pm wherein Lady Rockhold was our hostess again. This time, tea was served under the shade of a convenient grouping of nearby trees. The two teas served were a delightful lemon something-or-other and a vanilla caramel... I tried one of each. Miss Waterman was quite taken with Lady Rockhold's little copy of 'PAMELA or Virtue Rewarded'. She sat and read for quite a while.
The company assembled asked me to read from my copy of Henry V. Below, find an abbreviated version of the speech I read them.
Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more...
...Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Afterward, we sat in a group and played at cards a bit.
Shortly after tea was served, at about three of the clock, I went once again to demonstrate the Art & Mystery of Surgery. Every chair was full, and when more people showed up to watch, we brought more chairs down out of the back to accommodate them.
A helpful woman from the crowd aids me as surgeon's mate during the mock amputation.
Mr. Mudd was quite desirous to have me join him in some fencing practice, but I was far too exhausted to take him up on his offer after my demonstration.
Being that it was quite late in the day, everyone was beginning to gather up their things and make ready for their individual journeys home. I was no different, gathering up my books, the blue box and such and placed them in the carriage to make the trip south.
It would not be long before I would be putting Miss Waterman on the coach that would take her back to the Hegwood estate to the North.
I find that I have grown quite accustom'd to her company, and will, in my own way, miss her when she is gone.
I feel certain that my demeanor begged the question, 'why?'.
The remainder of our party became quite wilted from the heat and decided to turn back toward the house and the shade. Miss Waterman however wanted to proceed to the small chapel we could see in the distance, so I escorted her to it.
Having collected Miss Waterman from the coach she had been placed upon by the Hegwoods, I transfered her belongings into MY carriage for the trip out to the Farnsley-Moreman Estate along the Ohio River for a relaxing weekend among friends.
