Letter of Eneas inclosed in that of Rev. Mr. Wells:
Marse George: I am loss in er distric called Yellerhama, by a town name o'Burningham. Ef you knows whar Burningham is,
fer God's sake come ter me fer I can't git ter you! Me an' Lady Chain is plum wore out.
Marse George, I been ter firs one an' den ernuther Thomasville, year in an' year out, tell thar ain't no sense in hit. An' I ain't hit de right one yit. Evy yuther place is name Thomasville er Macon er Washington er Jefferson. Evybody knows whar I wanter go but me, an' shows me de road; but all I kin do is ter keep er movin'. De firs Thomasville I got ter I got back fo' times. Hit was harder ter lose it than hit was ter find it!
Marse George, I come ter one pond I couldn't see ercross an' de water warn't no count. The last Thomasville was out most ter sundown an' I was headin' fer ernuther when I struck er creek er mile wide an' Lady Chain couldn't wade hit, so we turn back.
Marse George, Lady Chain's colt come, back in the secon' Jefferson, an' he sholy is ole
Lightnin's colt; long-legged, big-footed an' iron grey. I been tryin' him out hyar an' thar an' thar ain't nothin' kin tech him.
Marse George, I got ernuther wife down in de third Washington an' am bringin' her erlong. She weighs one hundred and sixty, an' picks fo' hundred pounds er cotton er day. She b'longs ter you, same as me an' Lady Chain an' de colt.
Marse George, er horse trader goin' by told me erbout some more Macons an' Spartas an' Jeffersons an' Washingtons up de country fum hyar an' ef I don't git word fum you by nex' month, I'm gointer move erlong.
Marse George, ef you knows whar I is fum dis hyar letter an' can't come yo'self, sen' fer me. I'm sick o' de road an' wanter git home. Do somp'n an' do it quick!