I want nothing, having above half my barley saved in my barns unthreshed.

I had finished my alterations in the _Life of Christ_ a little while since, and transcribed three copies of it.

But all is lost.

God be praised! I hope my wife will recover, and not miscarry, but God will give me my nineteenth child.

She has burnt her legs, but they mend.
When I came to her, her lips were black.