DEAR AMERICA
The Diary of Catharine Carey Logan
Standing in the Light
MARY POPE OSBORNE
For my mother
Table Of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Delaware Valley, Pennsylvania 1763
13th of Eleventh Month, 1763
14th of Eleventh Month, 1763
15th of Eleventh Month, 1763
16th of Eleventh Month, 1763
17th of Eleventh Month, 1763
18th of Eleventh Month, 1763
19th of Eleventh Month, 1763
21st of Eleventh Month, 1763
22nd of Eleventh Month, 1763
23rd of Eleventh Month, 1763
24th of Eleventh Month, 1763
26th of Eleventh Month, 1763
27th of Eleventh Month, 1763
28th of Eleventh Month, 1763
30th of Eleventh Month, 1763
4th of Twelfth Month, 1763
5th of Twelfth Month, 1763
6th of Twelfth Month, 1763
7th of Twelfth Month, 1763
8th of Twelfth Month, 1763
10th of Twelfth Month, 1763
11th of Twelfth Month, 1763
19th of Twelfth Month, 1763
24th of Twelfth Month, 1763
25th of Twelfth Month, 1763
27th of Twelfth Month, 1763
30th of Twelfth Month, 1763
4th of First Month, 1764
6th of First Month, 1764
7th of First Month, 1764
8th of First Month, 1764
9th of First Month, 1764
Time Lost
20th of Tenth Month, 1764
21st of Tenth Month, 1764
22nd of Tenth Month, 1764
23rd of Tenth Month, 1764
24th of Tenth Month, 1764
25th of Tenth Month, 1764
26th of Tenth Month, 1764
27th of Tenth Month, 1764
28th of Tenth Month, 1764
29th of Tenth Month, 1764
30th of Tenth Month, 1764
31st of Tenth Month, 1764
2nd of Eleventh Month, 1764
3rd of Eleventh Month, 1764
6th of Eleventh Month, 1764
7th of Eleventh Month, 1764
8th of Eleventh Month, 1764
9th of Eleventh Month, 1764
10th of Eleventh Month, 1764
11th of Eleventh Month, 1764
12th of Eleventh Month, 1764
13th of Eleventh Month, 1764
14th of Eleventh Month, 1764
15th of Eleventh Month, 1764
16th of Eleventh Month, 1764
17th of Eleventh Month, 1764
18th of Eleventh Month, 1764
20th of Eleventh Month, 1764
21st of Eleventh Month, 1764
Epilogue
Life in America in 1763
Historical Note
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Other Books in the Dear America series
Copyright
Delaware Valley,
Pennsylvania
1763
13th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Today Papa gave Thomas and me new copybooks, black-walnut ink, and quills. I shall use mine for a diary, as well as for schoolwork.
The house is still. I write in the loft by candlelight while Thomas and Eliza sleep near me.
Papa is snoring downstairs. Mother sings softly in the dark to Baby Will. He suffers from his first tooth.
Mother shed a tear of joy when she discovered this tooth, for her last two babies did not live long enough to have one. She always worries about Baby Will. Weeks ago he was just skin and bone after a bout of fever and diarrhea. But lately she says again and again: “My, Baby Will has grown fatter, dost thee not all agree?”
We start school again tomorrow after helping bring in the harvest. I am so excited I can barely sleep. I confess I am looking forward to seeing Jess Owen. I have many things to tell him.
14th of Eleventh Month, 1763
All in the girls’ school were talking about Jess Owen today. He has returned to the boys’ school next door after spending six months away in Philadelphia. He has grown much taller and appears to be the most handsome boy in the valley.
Last winter, Jess and I were good friends. I talked easily to him and teased him. But today I was shocked to learn that I felt exceedingly shy when I first saw him on the path through the sugar maple grove.
He waved to me and called my name. The sun was bright on the maples, and a gentle breeze blew, making the last leaves fall around him like yellow stars.
I only nodded in return, then walked more quickly, for I was in a flutter.
When Thomas asked why I was walking so fast, I hushed him. In truth, I suddenly did not know what I would say if Jess were to walk with us.
I am confused now about my attack of fear. I pray I will soon find my tongue.
15th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Weather unusually warm. Papa burned trees yesterday, and the air is still sweet with the smell of burnt wood.
Before school, Thomas and I caught the pigs eating pumpkins and we chased them with sticks. When Thomas struck one, Mother saw him and severely told him to exert himself with more loving-kindness.
Thomas protested, for he is seven years old and does not like to have his will crossed.
Mother told him to watch his impudent tongue. She said that God loves all His creatures, however humble.
“Even naughty pigs?” Thomas asked with his usual mischievous grin.
“Yes, and even naughty boys,” Mother said.
If God loves all His creatures, I pray He will have mercy on me and untie my tongue.
16th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Unpleasant news from Master Collins today: Soon Lucy, Molly, and I must learn how to divide the long numbers. I fear I shall never understand and shall be afraid even to ask questions. I pray to be more courageous both in matters concerning arithmetic and talking to boys such as Jess Owen.
17th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Monthly Meeting today. The Friends disowned Sarah Thompson for dancing and singing, John Palmer for buying a slave, Ezekiel Carter for enlisting in the army, Liza Bennet for deviating from plainness of dress, Rebecca Merrick for marrying one not of our religious society, and Elizabeth Knowlton for having a vain and airy manner. Christopher Betts acknowledged it was shameful for him to ride in a horse race and to play cards.
Then, in the silence, I found myself thinking about Jess Owen waving at me in the grove. What has happened to the girl I was last year? The spirited girl who spoke to Jess so easily? Was she too bold? Was her manner too vain and airy? Would the Friends eventually turn out that girl? I fear she was not very modest and courteous, as the Quakers require a young woman to be. Sometimes alone in the woods, she even danced and sang!
But I confess I miss her. She was a happy creature.
18th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Before Jess Owen left the schoolyard today, his eyes seemed to seek me out. Then he waved and called my name.
Molly and Lucy both saw his action. Molly marveled that Jess Owen had called to me — and that I was red in the face.
Her words frighten me. I feel that my face betrayed me— revealing my strong feelings for Jess! I must find a way to hide myself so no one can guess what I think or feel.
19th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Mother boiled potatoes tonight. We mashed them with milk and butter, then cooked them in the skillet and served them with honey. A better pancake dinner was never had.
The whole family cheerful and thankful, except me. I was in an inexplicably gloomy mood. Mother scolded me for looking cross.
But then Papa invited me to go out into the night with him and look through his spyglass at the stars. They are so plentiful tonight, they moved Papa to quote Scripture: “When I consider Thy heavens, the work of Thy fingers, the moon and stars, each Thou hast ordained. What is man, that Thou art mindful of him?”
I wish I had the courage to talk to Jess Owen about Papa’s spyglass. But I worry now that whatever I say will sound too vain or too airy. I think I should say only simple things: “How was thy time in Philadelphia, Jess? How dost thee like returning to our school?”
21st of Eleventh Month, 1763
Anxious day. Stayed home, as Baby Will is unwell. He had a fever and diarrhea again, so severe that Papa left off farming and went for Doctor Griffith.
By noon the doctor arrived and diagnosed that Baby Will has worms. He fed him rhubarb and pinkroot. Finally the baby slept peacefully in Mother’s arms.
For the rest of the day, I tended to Eliza and the cooking, sweeping, feeding livestock, and collecting eggs.
Dear God, please keep Baby Will under Thy wing.
22nd of Eleventh Month, 1763
Plain and simple day.
Thomas and I stayed home to help Mother again. Baby Will seems to be conquering his worms. Mother, in a cheerful mood, made stewed apples and sweet biscuits for breakfast.
It was gray and windy as Thomas and I carried six buckets each from the spring and Eliza collected kindling. We filled the great iron pot over the fire and heated the water, then scrubbed a week’s worth of dirty clothes. While we worked, I made Thomas recite his multiplication tables and spelling words.
Later I gave Eliza a quilting lesson while Thomas practiced his penmanship. He can write with a joining hand and make capitals now.
In the afternoon Mother made candles while I took Eliza and Thomas into the forest to gather nuts. Thomas tore his britches climbing a tree in quest of a bird’s nest and Eliza cried because her stomach was hurting. I fear she might have worms, too.
Though she is four years old, she is quite small, so I was able to carry her all the way home. Mother gave her rhubarb and pinkroot. Then I baked johnnycakes and boiled turnips for Thomas and Papa.
23rd of Eleventh Month, 1763
Papa was gone all day, comforting the Lancasters who have recently lost two children to whooping cough.
When he returned, we had devotions and prayed for the souls of the children. Then Papa showed us tiny wildf lowers he had found on his journey. Somehow they have survived all the early frosts.
Thomas asked Papa why he bothered with such tiny things.
Papa said that we must study all the things of our world because no matter how small, each wears the mark of our Maker.
This thought gives new meaning to the owl that hoots in the dark, my leaping candle flame, the whispery breathing sounds of Baby Will downstairs.
Perhaps God hoots. God leaps. And God breathes downstairs.
These are the thoughts I should like to share with Jess Owen.
24th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Eliza seems better. Mama even allowed her to go with all of us to the Meeting House.
As we sat in silence, ill-behaved boys in the gallery laughed once during worship. I fear I heard the laughter of Jess Owen among them.
After Meeting, Mother called them “impudent children,” loud enough for them to hear. (Oh, how mistaken to call Jess a child!)
Mother keeps a list for her children on how to behave at Meeting. I know it by heart:
No talking, laughing, biting nails, pinching neighbors, stretching, yawning, spitting, staring at others, tapping of feet, or sighs of impatience.
Often it seems impossible to sit for two hours without succumbing to at least one of these temptations.
When I walked by Jess on the way to our carriage, he smiled at me — in front of all!
I looked away, blushing red in the face.
Mother might say that he has a wild character because he plays pinch-penny and laughs in Meeting. ’Tis strange that I do not care. I fear that in my deepest heart, I am a bit of a wild creature myself.
26th of Eleventh Month, 1763
Great distress. Jess Owen caught up with me on the path to school and, in the most beguiling voice, asked me if I liked blue ribbons.
I asked him why he wanted to know, and he answered that he thought I would look very pretty with blue ribbons in my hair.
I prayed for composure … and all I received was this inspiration: “Watch thy impudent tongue, Jess Owen.”
What a horrible thing to say! It sounds like what Mother would say! I could die a thousand deaths for having spoken thus!
Jess smiled a bit of a smirk and walked away. I wished I could walk away from myself as well.
So I would say this was a most miserable day. My face grows hot just to remember my words.
27th of Eleventh Month, 1763
I was relieved to stay home today and help Mother, for I did not have to face Jess Owen. However, I am sad that Eliza is unwell again. Her stomachache came back before dawn, so all morning Mother rocked her while I tended Baby Will.
When Papa came in from working in the fields, he fetched Doctor Griffith, who treated Eliza with red bark. Soon she slept soundly and without pain.
I fear Mother and I were greatly alarmed by news the doctor brought. He reported that Indians have raided three farmhouses on the river. Mother clutched me and, nearly in tears, exclaimed, “What terrible news!” She is very frightened of the Indians. I fear I could offer her little comfort, for my own heart was beating with fear.
Papa spoke to her in a calm, soft voice saying that we should put our trust in God. I wanted to believe him, but when he saw the doctor out to his carriage, I rushed after him. I waited until the doctor had driven away, then said, “What dost thee truly think about the Indian attack?”
“I expected as much,” he answered.
He stopped to sit on a log and motioned for me to sit with him. He explained that our government had lied to the Indians and broken all its treaties with them. Now the English were refusing to leave the Indian territories, even though our war with the French has ended.
He also told me how the Indians had been cruelly betrayed by the Extravagant Day’s Walk. Years ago, the Delaware Indians had agreed that the English could have all the land that they could walk in one and a half days. Both sides understood that to be thirty miles. Before the official walk, however, the English cheated by cutting a path through the virgin forest. Then they hired expert runners to race over the path. So the English ended up with twice the land they deserved.
“If we treat the Indians fairly, they will treat us fairly!” Papa said. “For forty years after William Penn came here, there was not one death on either side. But then the white men lied to the Indians and used them as pawns in the land wars between the French and English. The French convinced them to fight on their side by telling them that the English were planning to make them slaves.”
I am sad for the Indians, but I confess I worry more about our safety right now. I wish we would pack our wagons and go to Philadelphia at once. Later we can seek justice for the Indians.
But Papa believes that we should not go anywhere until God tells us to go.
I fear I spoke crossly to him, asking how he will know when God wants us to go.
He looked at me sadly, as if mourning my lack of faith. “Dost thee know the words of our Quaker founder, Caty? ‘In the light, wait, where unity is.’”
“I know the words,” I whispered.
“If thee stands in the light, Caty, thee will always know the right thing to do,” he said. “There is a still, small voice in each of us that speaks for God.”
Have I heard this voice? I truly do not know which voice is God’s, which is mine, or which is Papa’s or Mother’s inside me. Or, for that matter, Lucy’s or Molly’s or Master Col
lins’s!
Papa saw my despair and bid me to go calm Mother. He believes that doing good will always help one’s spirit.
Papa sounded so peaceful in the twilight. I wish he would be my inner voice and speak wisely to me forever. But he is always being called upon to care for others, to give his tender help and advice to friends and relatives.
I despair that I shall never find my own way to stand in the light, or find my own still, small voice.
28th of Eleventh Month, 1763
When Thomas and I went to school this morning, there was a great stir. Everyone was talking about the Indian raids. The attack appears to have been much worse than Doctor Griffith led us to believe. Five adults and three small children were murdered and two older children taken captive.
The Cantwell boys went into hideous detail about what Indians do to their captives. They called the Indians “savages” and told tales of their mutilating white people — cutting off noses and ears and hands, roasting them alive over fires, and beating them to death as they run a gauntlet.
Jess Owen did not notice me at all, as he was busy proclaiming that he would scalp ten savages if they tried to capture him.
I wanted to say what Papa had told me, explain why the Indians were angry, even remind the boys of William Penn and his great regard for the red man. But such a speech would have been too bold for me. Besides, it would not have been well received, for all were enjoying despising the enemy.
By day’s end, Thomas and I were much frightened by all the talk. When we started our walk home, a screeching sound came from the forest. We whooped with fear and ran all the way back to the farm, shouting for Papa. When Thomas imitated the sound, Papa assured us it was just a wild turkey.
Dear America: Standing in the Light Page 1