I Would Rather Fight With My Hands

You May Imagine Me The Very Shadow Of My Husband.

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

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

Disaffection Stalks Around Us.

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.