Your own King continues very well, and has received your two letters safely.
Our mutual friend is waiting for me at present, and probably has some more for me and will take this. I have just heard on good authority that they intend to move me to Armagh the end of this week or beginning of next in order to give me an opportunity of escaping while there. However, they may change their mind, and in any case it will make no difference to me personally. Armagh is healthier and nicer in every way, I am told by our Chief W., who comes from there. I am also told, on the same authority who informed me of projected move to Armagh, that we shall be certainly all released before Christmas.
I am disposed to think I have got heavier, but shall know to-morrow when I weigh.
Best love to our child.
YOUR LOVING HUSBAND.
November 21, 1881.
MY OWN QUEENIE,—Yours of the 18th has reached me safely, and though I am relieved to know that my darling is a little less miserable, yet I am still very much troubled and anxious about you. Has he[[2]] left yet? It is frightful that you should be exposed to such daily torture. My own Wifie must try and strengthen herself, and get some sleep for her husband's sake and for our child's sake, who must be suffering much also.
I am convinced that if it had not been for the unfortunate result of Tyrone I should not be here. I hope that Stafford may be followed by another success in Derry, and that it may open their eyes to the danger of their present proceedings. I can really honestly tell Wifie that my health is not only as good, but better than it has been at any time for the last twelve months.
I don't know who it was sent me the quilt; I am sending it to Wicklow, as it is green—a colour I detest. I don't want it here at all, as there are too many things on my bed as it is.
EVER YOUR OWN KING.