His health was seriously injured by the exposures of the campaigns, and he was left, after the Seven Years' War, with a broken constitution.
After his final return home, in 1760, his daughter gives this record of him--
"Copying music employed every vacant moment, even sometimes throughout half the night. . . . With my brother [DIETRICH]--now a little engaging creature of between four and five years old--he was very much pleased, and [on the first evening of his arrival at home] before he went to rest, the Adempken (a little violin) was taken from the shelf and newly strung, and the daily lessons immediately commenced. . . . I do not recollect that he ever desired any other society than what he had opportunities of enjoying in many of the parties where he was introduced by his profession, though far from being of a morose disposition; he would frequently encourage my mother in keeping up a social intercourse among a few acquaintances, whilst his afternoon hours generally were taken up in giving lessons to some scholars at home, who gladly saved him the troublesome exertion of walking. . . . He also found great pleasure in seeing DIETRICH'S improvement, who, young as he was, and of the most lively temper imaginable, was always ready to receive his lessons, leaving his little companions with the greatest cheerfulness to go to his father, who was so pleased with his performances that he made him play a solo on the Adempken in RAKE'S concert, being placed on a table before a crowded company, for which he was very much applauded and caressed, particularly by an English lady, who put a gold coin in his little pocket.
"It was not long before my father had as many scholars as he could find time to attend. And when they assembled at my father's to make little concerts, I was frequently called to join the second violin in an overture, for my father found pleasure in giving me sometimes a lesson before the instruments were laid by, after practising with DIETRICH, for I never was missing at those hours, sitting in a corner with my knitting and listening all the while."
Here, as in all her writing, CAROLINA is simple, true, direct to awkwardness, and unconsciously pathetic even in joy.