FROM J. BELLAMY.

Litchfield, August 17th, 1775.

MY DEAREST SOLDIER,

I was infinitely surprised to hear from you in the army. I can hardly
tell you what sensations I did not feel at the time. Shall not attempt
to describe them, though they deprived me of a night's sleep. But that
was not spent altogether unhappily. My busybody, _Fancy_, led me a
most romantic chase; in which, you may be sure, I visited your tent;
beheld you (unnoticed) musing on your present circumstances,
apparently agitated by every emotion which would naturally fill the
heart of one who has come to the resolution to risk his life for his
country's freedom. You will excuse my mentioning, that from a deep,
absent meditation, partly expressed by half-pronounced soliloquies, I
beheld you start up, clap your hand upon your sword, and look so
fiercely, that it almost frightened me. The scene, on your discovering
me, immediately changed to something more tender; but I won't waste
paper.

If you should happen to find Dr. James Cogswell, who is in Colonel
Spencer's regiment, please to give my best love to him, and tell him
he is a lazy scoundrel.

It rains, my boy, excessively. Does it not drop through your tent?
Write often to

JONA. BELLAMY.