_Washington, Aug. 11, 1863._ DEAR MOTHER--I sent Jeff a letter on
Sunday--I suppose he got it at the office. I feel so anxious to hear from
George; one cannot help feeling uneasy, although these days sometimes it
cannot help being long intervals without one's hearing from friends in
the army. O I do hope we shall hear soon, and that it is all right with
him. It seems as if the 9th Corps had returned to Vicksburg, and some
acc'ts say that part of the Corps had started to come up the river
again--toward Kentucky, I suppose. I have sent George two letters within a
week past, hoping they might have the luck to get to him, but hardly
expect it either.
Mother, I feel very sorry to hear Andrew is so troubled in his throat yet.
I know it must make you feel very unhappy. Jeff wrote me a good deal about
it, and seems to feel very bad about Andrew's being unwell; but I hope it
will go over, and that a little time will make him recover--I think about
it every day.
Mother, it has been the hottest weather here that I ever experienced, and
still continues so. Yesterday and last night was the hottest. Still, I
slept sound, have good ventilation through my room, little as it is (I
still hire the same room in L street). I was quite wet with sweat this
morning when I woke up, a thing I never remember to have happened to me
before, for I was not disturbed in my sleep and did not wake up once all
night. Mother, I believe I did not tell you that on the 1st of June (or a
while before) the O'Connors, the friends I took my meals with so long,
moved to other apartments for more room and pleasanter--not far off
though, I am there every day almost, a little--so for nearly two months
and a half I have been in the habit of getting my own breakfast in my room
and my dinner at a restaurant. I have a little spirit lamp, and always
have a capital cup of tea, and some bread, and perhaps some preserved
fruit; for dinner I get a good plate of meat and plenty of potatoes, good
and plenty for 25 or 30 cents. I hardly ever take any thing more than
these two meals, both of them are pretty hearty--eat dinner about 3--my
appetite is plenty good enough, and I am about as fleshy as I was in
Brooklyn. Mother, I feel better the last ten days, and at present, than I
did the preceding six or eight weeks. There was nothing particular the
matter with me, but I suppose a different climate and being so continually
in the hospitals--but as I say, I feel better, more strength, and better
in my head, etc. About the wound in my hand and the inflammation, etc., it
has thoroughly healed, and I have not worn anything on my hand, nor had
any dressing for the last five days. Mother, I hope you get along with the
heat, for I see it is as bad or worse in New York and Brooklyn--I am
afraid you suffer from it; it must be distressing to you. Dear mother, do
let things go, and just sit still and fan yourself. I think about you
these hot days. I fancy I see you down there in the basement. I suppose
you have your coffee for breakfast; I have not had three cups of coffee in
six months--tea altogether (I must come home and have some coffee for
breakfast with you).
Mother, I wrote to you about Erastus Haskell, Co. K, 141st, N. Y.--his
father, poor old man, come on here to see him and found him dead three
days. He had the body embalmed and took home. They are poor folks but very
respectable. I was at the hospital yesterday as usual--I never miss a day.
I go by my feelings--if I should feel that it would be better for me to
lay by for a while, I should do so, but not while I feel so well as I do
the past week, for all the hot weather; and while the chance lasts I would
improve it, for by and by the night cometh when no man can work (ain't I
getting pious!). I got a letter from Probasco yesterday; he sent $4 for my
sick and wounded--I wish Jeff to tell him that it came right, and give him
the men's thanks and my love.
Mother, have you heard anything from Han? And about Mary's Fanny--I hope
you will write me soon and tell me everything, tell me exactly as things
are, but I know you will--I want to hear family affairs before anything
else. I am so glad to hear Mat is good and hearty--you must write me about
Hat and little Black Head too. Mother, how is Eddy getting along? and
Jess, is he about the same? I suppose Will Brown is home all right; tell
him I spoke about him, and the Browns too. Dearest Mother, I send you my
love, and to Jeff too--must write when you can.