At This Late Hour A Wagon Has

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

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.

You May Imagine Me The Very Shadow Of My Husband.

I Would Rather Fight With My Hands Than My Tongue.

I Am Accordingly Ready; I Have Pressed As Many Cabinet Papers Into Trunks As To Fill One Carriage; Our Private Property Must Be Sacrificed, As It Is Impossible To Procure Wagons For Its Transportation.