_Washington, April 26, 1864._ DEAREST MOTHER--Burnside's army passed
through here yesterday. I saw George and walked with him in the regiment
for some distance and had quite a talk. He is very well; he is very much
tanned and looks hardy. I told him all the latest news from home. George
stands it very well, and looks and behaves the same noble and good fellow
he always was and always will be. It was on 14th st. I watched three hours
before the 51st came along. I joined him just before they came to where
the President and Gen. Burnside were standing with others on a balcony,
and the interest of seeing me, etc., made George forget to notice the
President and salute him. He was a little annoyed at forgetting it. I
called his attention to it, but we had passed a little too far on, and
George wouldn't turn round even ever so little. However, there was a great
many more than half the army passed without noticing Mr. Lincoln and the
others, for there was a great crowd all through the streets, especially
here, and the place where the President stood was not conspicuous from the
rest. The 9th Corps made a very fine show indeed. There were, I should
think, five very full regiments of new black troops, under Gen. Ferrero.
They looked and marched very well. It looked funny to see the President
standing with his hat off to them just the same as the rest as they passed
by. Then there [were the] Michigan regiments; one of them was a regiment
of sharpshooters, partly composed of Indians. Then there was a pretty
strong force of artillery and a middling force of cavalry--many New York,
Pennsylvania, Massachusetts, R. I., etc., reg'ts. All except the blacks
were veterans [that had] seen plenty of fighting. Mother, it is very
different to see a real army of fighting men, from one of those shows in
Brooklyn, or New York, or on Fort Greene. Mother, it was a curious sight
to see these ranks after rank of our own dearest blood of men, mostly
young, march by, worn and sunburnt and sweaty, with well-worn clothes and
thin bundles, and knapsacks, tin cups, and some with frying pans strapt
over their backs, all dirty and sweaty, nothing real neat about them
except their muskets; but they were all as clean and bright as silver.
They were four or five hours passing along, marching with wide ranks
pretty quickly, too. It is a great sight to see an army 25 or 30,000 on
the march. They are all so gay, too. Poor fellows, nothing dampens their
spirits. They all got soaked with rain the night before. I saw Fred
McReady and Capt. Sims, and Col. Le Gendre, etc. I don't know exactly
where Burnside's army is going. Among other rumors it is said they [are]
to go [with] the Army of the Potomac to act as a reserve force, etc.
Another is that they are to make a flank march, to go round and get Lee on
the side, etc. I haven't been out this morning and don't know what
news--we know nothing, only that there is without doubt to be a terrible
campaign here in Virginia this summer, and that all who know deepest about
it are very serious about it. Mother, it is serious times. I do not feel
to fret or whimper, but in my heart and soul about our country, the
forthcoming campaign with all its vicissitudes and the wounded and
slain--I dare say, mother, I feel the reality more than some because I am
in the midst of its saddest results so much. Others may say what they
like, I believe in Grant and in Lincoln, too. I think Grant deserves to be
trusted. He is working continually. No one knows his plans; we will only
know them when he puts them in operation. Our army is very large here in
Virginia this spring, and they are still pouring in from east and west.
You don't see about it in the papers, but we have a very large army here.
Mother, I am first rate in health, thank God; I never was better. Dear
mother, have you got over all that distress and sickness in your head? You
must write particular about it. Dear brother Jeff, how are you, and how is
Matty, and how the dear little girls? Jeff, I believe the devil is in it
about my writing you; I have laid out so many weeks to write you a good
long letter, and something has shoved it off each time. Never mind,
mother's letters keep you posted. You must write, and don't forget to tell
me all about Sis. Is she as good and interesting as she was six months
ago? Mother, have you heard anything from Han? Mother, I have just had my
breakfast. I had it in my room--some hard biscuit warmed on the stove, and
a bowl of strong tea with good milk and sugar. I have given a Michigan
soldier his breakfast with me. He relished it, too; he has just gone.
Mother, I have just heard again that Burnside's troops are to be a reserve
to protect Washington, so there may be something in it.