I hope this letter finds you well. All is grand down here on the plantation. Why, mother just whimspiddled her sootmunter the other day!
Unfortunately, Martha had a right spell of consumption and was defecating profusely all over the fore and aft of the veranda. My heavens, the smell was incontrovertible proof of the existence of demons. That odor could only have been produced in the bowels of the underworld itself.
In better news, Arthur has met a fine young woman. Her beauty knows no bounds and Arthur will not stop singing her praises. He claims she even takes deliveries in the rear entrance, often and superbly.
Well, the visitors should be returning shortly so please forgive the brevity of my correspondence. I must sing their song promptly before the clock strikes three or the innocents shall bear the brunt of their vengeance. I certainly hope my harp plucking is quick enough to appease our furry travelers of the aether.