I am driven mad by dogs, who have taken it into their accursed heads to
assemble every morning in the piece of ground opposite, and who have
barked this morning _for five hours without intermission_; positively
rendering it impossible for me to work, and so making what is really
ridiculous quite serious to me. I wish, between this and dinner, you
would send John to see if he can hire a gun, with a few caps, some
powder, and a few charges of small shot. If you duly commission him with
a card, he can easily do it. And if I get those implements up here
to-night, I'll be the death of some of them to-morrow morning.
Ever faithfully.
[Sidenote: Rev. James White.]