Lord, but my beard and hair were like Orson's; and I gave myself to the razor with great content; and later to the shears, bidding young Master Snips shape my pol for a club and powder in the most fashionable and military mode then acceptable to the service. Which he swore he knew how to accomplish; so I took my letters from the bed and disposed myself in a chair to peruse them while Snips should remain busy with his shears. The first letter I unsealed was from Nick Stoner, and written from Saratoga: "FRIEND JACK, "I take quill and ink to acquaint you how it goes with us here in the regiment. "I am fifer, and when in action am stationed near to the colours for duty. Damn them, they should give me a gun, also, as I can shoot better than any of 'em, as you know. "My brother John is a drummer in our regiment, and has learned all his flamms and how to beat all things lively save the devil. "My father is a private in our regiment, which is pleasant for all, and he is a dead shot and afeard of nothing save hell. "I have got into mischief and been punished on several occasions. I like not being triced up between two halbards. "I long to see Betsy Browse. She hath a pretty way of kissing. And sometimes I long to see Anne Mason, who has her own way, too. You are not acquainted with that saucy baggage, I think. But she lives only two miles from where my Betsy abides. And I warrant you I was put to it, sparking both, lest they discover I drove double harness. And there was Zuyler's pretty daughter, too--but enough of tender memories! "Anna has raven hair and jet black eyes and is snowy otherwise. I don't mean cold. Angelica Zuyler is fair of hair but brown for the rest---- "Well, Jack, I think on you every day and hope you do well with your Oneidas, who, we hear, are out with you on the Schoharie. "Our headquarters runner is your old Saguenay, and he is much trusted by our General, they say. Sometimes the fierce fellow comes to visit me, but asks only for news of you, and when I say I have none he sits in silence. And always, when he leaves, he says very solemnly: 'Tell my Captain that I am a real man. But did not know it until my Captain told me so.' "Now the news is that Burgoyne finds himself in a pickle since the bloody battle at Oriskany. I think he flounders like a big chain-pike stranded belly-deep in a shallow pool which is slowly drying up around him. "We are no longer afeard of his Germans, his General Baum-Boom, his famous artillery, or his Indians. "What the Tryon County lads did to St. Leger we shall surely do to that big braggart, John Burgoyne. And mean to do it presently. "I send this letter to you by Adam Helmer, who goes this day to Schenectady, riding express. "I give you my hand and heart. I hope Penelope is well.