The chairs were soon set up, when John, the eldest son, a lad of about fifteen, entered with a letter. There was one general exclamation, and stretching out of hands towards it. John threw it into his mother’s lap; the tea-table was forgotten, and the tea-kettle sang unnoticed by the fire, as all hands piled themselves up by mother’s chair to hear the news. It was from Captain Ward, then in the American army, at Valley Forge. Mrs. Ward ran it over hastily, and then read it aloud. A few words we may extract:—“There is still,” it said, “much suffering. I have given away every pair of stockings you sent me, reserving to myself only one; for I will not be one whit better off than the poorest soldier that fights for his country. Poor fellows! it makes my heart ache sometimes to go round among them, and see them with their worn clothes and torn shoes, and often bleeding feet, yet cheerful and hopeful, and every one willing to do his very best. Often the spirit of discouragement comes over them, particularly at night, when, weary, cold, and hungry, they turn into their comfortless huts on the snowy ground. Then sometimes there is a thought of home and warm fires, and some speak of giving up; but next morning out comes Washington’s general orders—little short note; but it’s wonderful the good it does! and then they all resolve to hold on, come what may. There are commissioners going all through the country to pick up supplies. If they come to you, I need not tell you what to do. I know all that will be in your hearts.” “There, children, see what your father suffers,” said the mother, “and what it costs these poor soldiers to gain our liberty.” “Ephraim Scranton told me that the commissioners had come as far as the Three-mile Tavern, and that he rather ’spected they’d be along here to-night,” said John, as he was helping round the baked beans to the silent company at the tea-table. “To-night?—Do tell, now!” said Aunt Hitty. “Then it’s time we were awake and stirring. Let’s see what can be got.” “I’ll send my new over-coat, for one,” said John. “That old one an’t cut up yet, is it, Aunt Hitty?” “No,” said Aunt Hitty; “I was laying out to cut it over, next Wednesday, when Desire Smith could be here to do the tailoring.” “There’s the south room,” said Aunt Hitty, musing; “that bed has the two old Aunt Ward blankets on it, and the great blue quilt, and two comforters. Then mother’s and my room, two pair—four comforters—two quilts—the best chamber has got——” “O! Aunt Hitty, send all that’s in the best chamber. If any company comes, we can make it up off from our beds!” said John. “I can send a blanket or two off from my bed, I know;—can’t but just turn over in it, so many clothes on, now.” “Aunt Hitty, take a blanket off from our bed,” said Grace and Dicky at once. “Well, well, we’ll see,” said Aunt Hitty, bustling up.