_Washington, Friday morning, Jan. 2, 1863._ DEAR SISTER[8]--You have heard
of my fortunes and misfortunes of course, (through my letters to mother
and Jeff,) since I left home that Tuesday afternoon. But I thought I would
write a few lines to you, as it is a comfort to write home, even if I have
nothing particular to say. Well, dear sister, I hope you are well and
hearty, and that little Sis[9] keeps as well as she always had, when I
left home so far. Dear little plague, how I would like to have her with
me, for one day; I can fancy I see her, and hear her talk. Jeff must have
got a note from me about a letter I have written to the _Eagle_--you may
be sure you will get letters enough from me, for I have little else to do
at present. Since I laid my eyes on dear brother George, and saw him alive
and well--and since I have spent a week in camp, down there opposite
Fredericksburg, and seen what well men, and sick men, and mangled men
endure--it seems to me I can be satisfied and happy henceforward if I can
get one meal a day, and know that mother and all are in good health, and
especially be with you again, and have some little steady paying
occupation in N. Y. or Brooklyn.
I am writing this in the office of Major Hapgood, way up in the top of a
big high house, corner of 15th and F street; there is a splendid view,
away down south of the Potomac river, and across to the Georgetown side,
and the grounds and houses of Washington spread out beneath my high point
of view. The weather is perfect--I have had that in my favor ever since
leaving home--yesterday and to-day it is bright, and plenty warm enough.
The poor soldiers are continually coming in from the hospitals, etc., to
get their pay--some of them waiting for it to go home. They climb up here,
quite exhausted, and then find it is no good, for there is no money to pay
them; there are two or three paymasters' desks in this room, and the
scenes of disappointment are quite affecting. Here they wait in
Washington, perhaps week after week, wretched and heart-sick--this is the
greatest place of delays and puttings off, and no finding the clue to
anything. This building is the paymaster-general's quarters, and the
crowds on the walk and corner of poor, sick, pale, tattered soldiers are
awful--many of them day after day disappointed and tired out. Well, Mat, I
will suspend my letter for the present, and go through the city--I have a
couple of poor fellows in the hospital to visit also.