I'm Going Now. My Time Has Come.

On The Fourth Day Of July Following, A Party Of About Two Hundred Indians Attacked Boonsborough, Killed One Man, And Wounded Two.

We Were Then In A Dangerous, Helpless Situation, Exposed Daily To Perils And Death Amongst Savages And Wild Beasts, Not A White Man In The Country But Ourselves.

Felicity, The Companion Of Content, Is Rather Found In Our Own Breasts Than In The Enjoyment Of External Things; And I Firmly Believe It Requires But A Little Philosophy To Make A Man Happy In Whatever State He Is.

I've Never Been Lost, But I've Been A Mite Bewildered For A Few Days.

In Such A Diversity It Was Impossible I Should Be Disposed To Melancholy.