The Patient Must Minister To Himself

The Gloomy Shade Of Death.

The Little Dogs And All, Tray, Blanch, And Sweetheart-see, They Bark At Me.

Every Subject's Duty Is The Kings, But Every Subject's Soul Is His Own.

What Are You Doing Sister? / Killing Swine.

Thou Art An Elm, My Husband, I A Vine, Whose Weakness, Married To Thy Stronger State, Makes Me With Thy Strength To Communicate.