On Sunday the 13th we left it [Ballstown]
on our return to Albany and stopped at Troy for the night. Almost all the pleasant company left Ballstown the same day. Among others I should not omit to mention the amiable and handsome family of the Powels of Philadelphia.2
Our regret was not very great therefore, at turning our backs upon Ballstown, excepting that I felt a little distress least it might only open a new scene of adventure. We stopped at Troy that evening and making a mistake as to the Hotel, we got wretched accommodations. In the evening we went to Mr. Dickinson’s where we had a horribly dull evening.3
But these minutiae tease and disgust me. My spirits were sinking lower every day, with the consciousness that I was to be dragged about from place to place with all my woes about me.