You May Imagine Me The Very Shadow

Two Messengers Covered With Dust Come To Bid Me Fly, But I Wait For Him.

At This Late Hour A Wagon Has Been Procured, And I Have Had It Filled With Plate And The Most Valuable Portable Articles, Belonging To The House.

And Now, Dear Sister, I Must Leave This House Or The Retreating Army Will Make Me A Prisoner In It By Filling Up The Road I Am Directed To Take.

I Would Rather Fight With My Hands Than My Tongue.

When I Shall Again Write To You, Or Where I Shall Be Tomorrow, I Cannot Tell.