“We have sufferd greatly by a very severe drought and intense Heat. The Indian corn was nearer perishing than ever I knew it before, many Feild[s] have been cut up, and what were left the most severe storm that was ever known here laid level with the Ground. I fear we shall be distressd for Bread, and cider will be scarcer than it has been since my remembrance. There were but very few apples before the storm having sufferd an early blast, and the few there were are distroyd by the storm. We think you deficient in your duty that you never tell us how you do, nor have you said lately whether your disorder has left you. Your Welfare is most earnestly wished by your Friend Portia.”