_Washington, Tuesday morning, June 9, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--Jeff's letter
came yesterday and was very welcome, as I wanted to hear about you all. I
wrote to George yesterday and sent Jeff's letter enclosed. It looks from
some accounts as though the 9th Army Corps might be going down into East
Tennessee (Cumberland Gap, or perhaps bound for Knoxville). It is an
important region, and has many Southern Unionists. The staunchest Union
man I have ever met is a young Southerner in the 2nd Tennessee (Union
reg't)--he was ten months in Southern prisons; came up from Richmond
paroled about ten weeks ago, and has been in hospital here sick until
lately. He suffered everything but death--he is [the] one they hung up by
the heels, head downwards--and indeed worse than death, but stuck to his
convictions like a hero--John Barker, a real manly fellow; I saw much of
him and heard much of that country that can be relied on. He is now gone
home to his reg't.
Mother, I am feeling very well these days--my head that was stopt up so
and hard of hearing seems to be all right; I only hope you have had
similar good fortune with your rheumatism, and that it will continue so. I
wish I could come in for a couple of days and see you; if I should succeed
in getting a transportation ticket that would take me to New York and back
I should be tempted to come home for two or three days, as I want some
MSS. and books, and the trunk, etc.--but I will see. Mother, your letter
week before last was very good--whenever you feel like it you write me,
dear mother, and tell me everything about the neighborhood and all the
items of our family.
And sister Mat, how is she getting along--I believe I will have to write a
letter especially to her and Sis one of these times.
It is awful dry weather here, no rain of any consequence for five or six
weeks. We have strawberries good and plenty, 15 cents a quart, with the
hulls on--I go down to market sometimes of a morning and buy two or three
quarts, for the folks I take my meals with. Mother, do you know I have not
paid, as you may say, a cent of board since I have been in Washington,
that is for meals--four or five times I have made a rush to leave the
folks and find a moderate-priced boarding-house, but every time they have
made such a time about it that I have kept on. It is Mr. and Mrs. O'Connor
(he is the author of "Harrington"); he has a $1600 office in the Treasury,
and she is a first-rate woman, a Massachusetts girl. They keep house in a
moderate way; they have one little girl (lost a fine boy about a year
ago); they have two rooms in the same house where I hire my rooms, and I
take breakfast (half-past 8) and dinner (half-past 4) with them, as they
will have it so. That's the way it has gone on now over five months, and
as I say, they won't listen to my leaving--but I shall do so, I think. I
can never forget the kindness and real friendship, and it appears as
though they would continue just the same, if it were for all our lives.
But I have insisted on going to market (it is pleasant in the cool of the
morning) and getting the things at my own expense, two or three times a
week lately. I pay for the room I occupy now $7 a month--the landlord is a
mixture of booby, miser, and hog; his name is G----; the landlady is a
good woman, Washington raised--they are quite rich; he is Irish of the
worst kind--has had a good office for ten years until Lincoln came in.
They have bought another house, smaller, to live in, and are going to move
(were to have moved 1st of June). They had an auction of the house we live
in yesterday, but nobody came to buy, so it was ridiculous--we had a red
flag out, and a nigger walked up and down ringing a big bell, which is the
fashion here for auctions.
Well, mother, the war still goes on, and everything as much in a fog as
ever--and the battles as bloody, and the wounded and sick getting worse
and plentier all the time. I see a letter in the _Tribune_ from Lexington,
Ky., June 5th, headed "The 9th Army Corps departing for Vicksburg"--but I
cannot exactly make it out on reading the letter carefully--I don't see
anything in the letter about the 9th Corps moving from Vicksburg; at any
rate I think the 2nd division is more likely to be needed in Kentucky (or
as I said, in Eastern Tennessee), as the Secesh are expected to make
trouble there. But one can hardly tell--the only thing is to resign
oneself to events as they occur; it is a sad and dreary time, for so many
thousands of parents and relatives, not knowing what will occur next.
Mother, I told you, I think last week, that I had wrote to Han, and
enclosed George's last letter to me--I wrote a week ago last Sunday--I
wonder if she got the letter. About the pictures, I should like Jeff to
send them, as soon as convenient--might send 20 of the big head, 10 or 12
of the standing figure, and 3 of the carte visite.
I am writing this in Major Hapgood's office--it is bright and pleasant,
only the dust here in Washington is a great nuisance. Mother, your shirts
do first rate--I am wearing them; the one I have on to-day suits me better
than any I have ever yet had. I have not worn the thin coat the last week
or so, as it has not been very hot lately. Mother, I think something of
commencing a series of lectures and reading, etc., through different
cities of the North, to supply myself with funds for my hospital and
soldiers' visits, as I do not like to be beholden to the medium of others.
I need a pretty large supply of money, etc., to do the good I would like
to, and the work grows upon me, and fascinates me--it is the most
affecting thing you ever see, the lots of poor sick and wounded young men
that depend so much, in one word or another, upon my petting or soothing
or feeding, sitting by them and feeding them their dinner or supper--some
are quite helpless, some wounded in both arms--or giving some trifle (for
a novelty or a change, it isn't for the value of it), or stopping a little
while with them. Nobody will do but me--so, mother, I feel as though I
would like to inaugurate a plan by which I could raise means on my own
hook, and perhaps quite plenty too. Best love to you, dearest mother, and
to sister Mat, and Jeff.