So he spent the morning drowning his aching emptiness in history. He wandered around an outdoor flea market lusting after a pre-Revolutionary powder horn and a Pennsylvania rifle engraved with the initials of the German-immigrant gunsmith who made it and a narrow truckle bed and a collection of Continental coins and a worn leather portmanteau with the date 1776 embossed on it. He almost bought a copy of Frederick’s Instructions to His Generals but abandoned the idea when he discovered the asking price. Reluctantly. Washington, the Weeder remembered, had kept a copy of Frederick’s Instructions on his desk during the battles of Long Island and, later, Harlem Heights. The Weeder wondered if Nate had noticed the book when he was summoned to the Commander-in-Chief’s headquarters. Knowing Nate, knowing his love for books, he thought it more than likely. The Weeder made a mental note to check if the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library had a copy of Frederick’s Instructions next time he got up to Yale.
