_Washington, Oct. 27, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER,--Yours and George's letter
came, and a letter from Jeff too--all good. I had received a letter a day
or so before from George too. I am very glad he is at Camp Nelson,
Kentucky, and I hope and pray the reg't will be kept there--for God knows
they have tramped enough for the last two years, and fought battles and
been through enough. I have sent George papers to Camp Nelson, and will
write to-morrow. I send him the _Unions_ and the late New York papers.
Mother, you or Jeff write and tell me how Andrew is; I hope he will prove
to be better. Such complaints are sometimes very alarming for awhile, and
then take such a turn for the better. Common means and steadily pursuing
them, about diet especially, are so much more reliable than any course of
medicine whatever. Mother, I have written to Han; I sent her George's
letter to me, and wrote her a short letter myself. I sent it four or five
days ago. Mother, I am real pleased to hear Jeff's explanation how it is
that his wages is cut down, and that it was not as I fancied from the
meanness of the old coons in the board. I felt so indignant about it, as I
took it into my head, (though I don't know why) that it was done out of
meanness, and was a sort of insult. I was quite glad Jeff wrote a few
lines about it--and glad they appreciate Jeff, too. Mother, if any of my
soldier boys should ever call upon you (as they are often anxious to have
my address in Brooklyn) you just use them as you know how to without
ceremony, and if you happen to have pot luck and feel to ask them to take
a bite, don't be afraid to do so. There is one very good boy, Thos. Neat,
2nd N. Y. Cavalry, wounded in leg. He is now home on furlough--his folks
live, I think, in Jamaica. He is a noble boy. He may call upon you. (I
gave him here $1 toward buying his crutches, etc.) I like him very much.
Then possibly a Mr. Haskell, or some of his folks from Western New York,
may call--he had a son died here, a very fine boy. I was with him a good
deal, and the old man and his wife have written me, and asked me my
address in Brooklyn. He said he had children in N. Y. city and was
occasionally down there. Mother, when I come home I will show you some of
the letters I get from mothers, sisters, fathers, etc.--they will make you
cry. There is nothing new with my hospital doings--I was there yesterday
afternoon and evening, and shall be there again to-day. Mother, I should
like to hear how you are yourself--has your cold left you, and do you feel
better? Do you feel quite well again? I suppose you have your good stove
all fired up these days--we have had some real cool weather here. I must
rake up a little cheap second-hand stove for my room, for it was in the
bargain that I should get that myself. Mother, I like my place quite well,
better on nearly every account than my old room, but I see it will only do
for a winter room. They keep it clean, and the house smells clean, and the
room too. My old room, they just let everything lay where it was, and you
can fancy what a litter of dirt there was--still it was a splendid room
for air, for summer, as good as there is in Washington. I got a letter
from Mrs. Price this morning--does Emmy ever come to see you?
Matty, my dear sister, and Miss Mannahatta, and the little one (whose name
I don't know, and perhaps hasn't got any name yet), I hope you are all
well and having good times. I often, often think about you all. Mat, do
you go any to the Opera now? They say the new singers are so good--when I
come home we'll try to go. Mother, I am very well--have some cold in my
head and my ears stopt up yet, making me sometimes quite hard of hearing.
I am writing this in Major Hapgood's office. Last Sunday I took dinner at
my friends the O'Connors--had two roast chickens, stewed tomatoes,
potatoes, etc. I took dinner there previous Sunday also.
Well, dear mother, how the time passes away--to think it will soon be a
year I have been away! It has passed away very swiftly, somehow, to me. O
what things I have witnessed during that time--I shall never forget them.
And the war is not settled yet, and one does not see anything at all
certain about the settlement yet; but I have finally got for good, I
think, into the feeling that our triumph is assured, whether it be sooner
or whether it be later, or whatever roundabout way we are led there, and I
find I don't change that conviction from any reverses we meet, or any
delays or Government blunders. There are blunders enough, heaven knows,
but I am thankful things have gone on as well for us as they
have--thankful the ship rides safe and sound at all. Then I have finally
made up my mind that Mr. Lincoln has done as good as a human man could do.
I still think him a pretty big President. I realize here in Washington
that it has been a big thing to have just kept the United States from
being thrown down and having its throat cut; and now I have no doubt it
will throw down Secession and cut its throat--and I have not had any doubt
since Gettysburg. Well, dear, dear mother, I will draw to a close. Andrew
and Jeff and all, I send you my love. Good-bye, dear mother and dear Matty
and all hands.