Two messengers covered with dust come to bid me fly, but I wait for him.

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.

Our private property must be sacrificed.

When I shall again write to you, or where I shall be tomorrow, I cannot tell.

Disaffection stalks around us.

It is done... the precious portrait placed in the hands of the gentlemen for safe keeping.