Sept. 9. First day. This forenoon I was let blood by Jacob Smith, who lives when at home, in Chestnut street, opposite to Dr Kuhn. He recommended him to me, aud I think him an expert hand at ye business. He opened a vein that had never before been opened. My veins are small, and the largest lays over an artery, which makes it difficult for me to be bled, tho' I have been bled may be, 50 times in my life, or near to it.
Sept. 10. After breakfast packed up, and prepared to set off. Bid farewell to our old Roomlady Bensel. We left Germantown between 9 and 10 o'clock, my husband, William, Sall Dawson and myself, with trunks, boxes &c., pretty well loaded. Arrived between 12 and one, at Kimble's tavern, a little beyond the 13th milestone on the Bristol road, where I am now scribbling, and where we propose dining. John Fenno, printer said to be dead; I am sorry to hear it.
Met our son Henry at Bristol—and our maid Sarah came ashore a few minutes after from Burlington. Arrived at North bank about 5 o'clock—a transition from noise, hurry and bustle to a calm retreat, where my giddy head may perhaps get a little better. William says, it seems as tho' he had got out of Purgatory into Paradise.
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