Father laid his hand on my shoulder, (a most unusual caress with him) and said almost solemnly, “Deborah I have need of thee. Hast thee the courage to go out and ride, it may be even in the dark and as fast as may be, till thou comest to Boston town?” He continued, “I do not believe Deborah, that there will be actual danger to threaten thee, else I would not ask it of thee, but the way is long, and in part lonely. I shall send Aristarchus with thee and shall explain to him the urgency of the business. Though he is a slave, he understands the mighty matters at stake, and I shall instruct him yet further. There are reasons why it is better for you a woman to take the despatches I would send than for me to entrust them to a man; else I should send your brother Henry. Dare you go? . . . ”

Everywhere we heard the same thing, love for the Mother Country, but stronger than that, that she must must give us our rights, that we were fighting not for independence, though that might come and would be the war-cry if the oppression of unjust taxation was not removed. Nowhere was a cup of imported tea offered us. It was a glass of milk, or a cup of “hyperion” the name they gave to a tea made of raspberry leaves. We heard that it would be almost impossible to avoid the British, unless by going so far out of the way that too much time would be lost, so plucked up what courage I could as darkness began to come on at the close of the second day. I secreted the papers in a small pocket in a saddle bag under some eatables that mother had put up. We decided to ride all night. Providentially the moon just past full, rose about 8 o’clock and it was not unpleasant, for the roads were better. I confess that I began to be weary. It was late at night or rather very early in the morning, that I heard a sentry call and knew that if at all the danger point was reached. I pulled my calash [a large hood] as far over my face as I could, thanking my wise mother’s forethought, and went on with what boldness I could muster. I really believed I heard Aristarchus’ teeth chatter as he rode to my side and whispered “De British missus for sure.” Suddenly I was ordered to halt. As I could not help myself I did so. A soldier in a red coat appeared and suggested that I go to headquarters for examination. I told him “It was early to wake his Captain and to please let me pass for I had been sent in urgent haste to see a friend in need,” which was true, if a little ambiguous. To my joy he let me go saying “Well, you are only an old woman any way.” Evidently as glad to be rid of me as I of him.

Source: Deborah Champion to Patience, 2 October 1775, in Women’s Letters: America from the Revolutionary War to the Present, ed. Lisa Grunwald and Stephen J. Adler (New York: Dial Press, 2005), 25–28.