November 30, 1837

Days are short and nights grow long, and I have none but this mere paper and pen to keep me company. I have no whereabouts on Wolfred, though perhaps he has found his way south as I have. He was a great man, never letting fear breach his eyes. It was an honour to fight alongside him, against those filthy Brits. The audacity, to rob us of every last strand of independence we had, stealing hard earned money and depleting our economic status. Should they not have expected a resistance? Should they not have predicted an uprising? It is simply unfortunate now, that good men are taken away, exiled from the land, simply to maintain a game of useless gambling for unneeded profit.

I now make my way down to Vermont, though it irks me to consider not being able to return to Canada. It is unfair to allow the independence and well-being of our land be taken away by some British scoundrels. We deserve sustenance, and trust. Sometimes I think just why I’m rebelling, if all my efforts can be distinguished with the crack of a gunshot on my own land. Montreal is where I hope my path leads me to next. This economic crisis cannot be left untouched by our own people. I hope it won’t be long before my return – considering it’s possible.

I aim to contact Wolfred once I reach a stable area. We must not step down, but resist until we can no more.

À son aspect le Canadien s’écrie:
Ô Canada, mon pays, mes amours