Dear cousin, [it is] with pleasure that I now write these few lines to you, hoping to meet you, and all quite well, thank God, as it leaves me at present. I received your kind letter and portrait on the 9th of July and was very pleased with it. I sent it home for father and mother to see it, and they have sent it to me again, and they send their kind love to aunt and uncle and cousins, and to yourself. And father sends word to say that he wishes you would come over to Norfolk and see us all. I should like to see you much, and I should like very much to see America, but father and mother would not like me to be so far from home. I would come if it were not for the water. Perhaps you do not mind the water, and it would be a nice excursion for you. Dear cousin, I am not living near Smithfield. If I should be going that way before I leave my place, I will call and see that young person. I am not leaving my place till the 18th of September. The mistress don’t like I should leave. I am going down home then before I get another situation, so hope that you will write one so that I shall be able to get it before leaving. It would be nice if you would write one and bring it yourself. Give my kindest love to aunt and uncle and cousins, and to uncle Riseborough and all. We are getting some very hot weather now. Harvest won't be so very long now. I don't think that I have any more to say at present. I remain your ever affectionate cousin,

Betsy Broughton