'If I be left behind, a moth
of peace, and he goes off to
war. The rites of which I love
him are bereft me Let me go
with him.' All that faint-hearted
stuff, enough for action. Do let
us travel. The carbines and the
horses, all, are on the move.
Here take this sailor-hat and my
valise, and bring it to my father
when I am dead.