_Washington, Aug. 18, 1863._ DEAR MOTHER--I was mighty glad to get
George's letter, I can tell you--you have not heard since, I suppose. They
must be now back again in Kentucky, or that way, as I see [by] a letter
from Cairo (up the Mississippi river) that boats had stopt there with the
9th Corps on from Vicksburg, going up towards Cincinnati--I think the
letter was dated Aug. 10. I have no doubt they are back again up that way
somewhere. I wrote to George four or five days ago--I directed it Ohio,
Mississippi, or elsewhere. Mother, I was very glad indeed to get your
letter--I am so sorry Andrew does not get any better; it is very
distressing about losing the voice; he must not be so much alarmed, as
that continues some times years and the health otherwise good. ..........
Mother, I wrote to Han about five days ago; told her we had heard from
George, and all the news--I must write to Mary too, without fail--I should
like to hear from them all, and from Fanny. There has been a young man
here in hospital, from Farmingdale; he was wounded; his name is
Hendrickson; he has gone home on a furlough; he knows the Van Nostrands
very well--I told him to go and see Aunt Fanny. I was glad you gave Emma
Price my direction here; I should [like] to hear from Mrs. Price and her
girls first rate, I think a great deal about them--and mother, I wish you
to tell any of them so; they always used me first rate, and always stuck
up for me--if I knew their street and number I should write.
It has been awful hot here now for twenty-one days; ain't that a spell of
weather? The first two weeks I got along better than I would have thought,
but the last week I have felt it more, have felt it in my head a little--I
no more stir without my umbrella, in the day time, than I would without my
boots. I am afraid of the sun affecting my head and move pretty cautious.
Mother, I think every day, I wonder if the hot weather is affecting mother
much; I suppose it must a good deal, but I hope it cannot last much
longer. Mother, I had a letter in the N. Y. _Times_ of last Sunday--did
you see it? I wonder if George can't get a furlough and come home for a
while; that furlough he had was only a flea-bite. If he could it would be
no more than right, for no man in the country has done his duty more
faithful, and without complaining of anything or asking for anything, than
George. I suppose they will fill up the 51st with conscripts, as that
seems the order of the day--a good many are arriving here, from the North,
and passing through to join Meade's army. We are expecting to hear of more
rows in New York about the draft; it commences there right away I
see--this time it will be no such doings as a month or five weeks ago; the
Gov't here is forwarding a large force of regulars to New York to be ready
for anything that may happen--there will be no blank cartridges this time.
Well, I thought when I first heard of the riot in N. Y. I had some
feeling for them, but soon as I found what it really was, I felt it was
the devil's own work all through. I guess the strong arm will be exhibited
this time up to the shoulder. Mother, I want to see you and all very much.
As I wish to be here at the opening of Congress, and during the winter, I
have an idea I will try to come home for a month, but I don't know when--I
want to see the young ones and Mat and Jeff and everybody. Well, mother, I
should like to know all the domestic affairs at home; don't you have the
usual things eating, etc.? Why, mother, I should think you would eat
nearly all your meals with Mat--I know you must when they have anything
good (and I know Mat will have good things if she has got a cent left).
Mother, don't you miss _Walt_ loafing around, and carting himself off to
New York toward the latter part of every afternoon? How do you and the
Browns get along?--that hell hole over the way, what a nuisance it must be
nights, and I generally have a very good sleep. Mother, I suppose you
sleep in the back room yet--I suppose the new houses next door are
occupied. How I should like to take a walk on old Fort Greene--tell
Mannahatta her Uncle Walt will be home yet, from the sick soldiers, and
have a good walk all around, if she behaves to her grandmother and don't
cut up. Mother, I am scribbling this hastily in Major Hapgood's office; it
is not so hot to-day, quite endurable. I send you my love, dear mother,
and to all, and wish Jeff and you to write as often as you can.