When I consider all the misery in the city, and the privations not only among the poor, but the rich, and consider how we have been provided for, it does seem to me most marvellous, strangers as we were, and without a friend. Before the plague, in our ignorance of the probable time of its continuance, and with the certain knowledge that in the midst of the greatest want, there was not a soul that could help us, we took in enough of wheat, rice, soap, and candles, to last till within a very few weeks. When dear Mr. Pfander left us, we made him some sausages, called in this country _pastourma_: he, however, took but a few, and the rest remained with us, and served us both during the plague, and now in the famine to vary our food a little, though somewhat dry and as hard as wood, and still of them one or two remains. The dear boys also had some pigeons: these also served us for many days. We then had two goats for my poor dear little baby, and to give us milk; but provisions became so dear that we were obliged to kill one; this we divided among the poor: the second at last we also killed, and potted in its fat. This by little and little we are consuming. We have also got four or five hens, which lay two or three eggs a-day. Thus the Lord has provided for us till now; and if we have not had abundance, we have never suffered from want. And now, when wheat and rice is not to be bought, and if possessed in quantities would expose the possessors to inevitable pillage, the Lord has so graciously supplied us, that we avoid both want and the danger of possessing provisions in the house, for before the kind Taylors left this, they gave me permission to take from the Residency whatever I might want, and this I now take by little and little as I need, and the house of the Resident is so far respected in public opinion, that openly disorganized as things are, I do not think they will commit any violence upon it.