December 3rd, 1775 — the Sabbath
This day, for the first time, I fired shot in our drilling. I am no exquisite marksman, and almost dropped the piece when it fired. It is incomprehensible that I shall use this weapon against men of flesh and blood. I fear I am the worst of soldiers. It takes near a full minute for me to load.
Tonight, the visit of some of the women to our fire, and some singing. The maiden was among them; she chanted at the request of the women; I blush to relate it, but I (pridefully) painted in my fancy a scene where I played the violin for her, and she was delighted.