I Would Rather Fight With My Hands

It Is Done... The Precious Portrait Placed In The Hands Of The Gentlemen For Safe Keeping.

Our Private Property Must Be Sacrificed.

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.

Disaffection Stalks Around Us.