The Old Dominion

I wrote to you, my dear sister, from the pretty little town of Baltimore; and I hope you have received my letter. Although this so speedily follows it, my only motives for writing are, to occupy idle time, and to relieve your mind from apprehension regarding my safety during my passage through all the terrors of Chesapeake Bay: "that long and dreadful inlet," as you call it, "in which uncle Richard was shipwrecked twenty or thirty years ago." Believe me, all these dangers are imaginary.