 Here are the letters. Cherish them with your life. Yes, Mr. Jackson. And, Fred, as soon as you get back to Williamsburg, see that this one is hurried off to my wife at Monticello. I will, sir. The last I heard from her was weeks ago. I'm afraid for her health. She's not well. Forgive me, sir, but you need a rest yourself. For days you've been doing nothing but writing, writing, writing. Oh, how can I rest?