_Washington, May 3, 1864._ DEAREST MOTHER--I received your letter dated
last Friday afternoon, with one from Mr. Heyde. It seems by that Han is
better, but, as you say, it would be much more satisfactory if Han would
write to us herself. Mother, I believe I told you I sent a letter to Han
last week, enclosing one of George's from Annapolis. I was glad to get
Heyde's letter, though, as it was. Mother, I am sorry you still have
returns of your cold. Does it affect your head like it did? Dear mother, I
hope you will not expose yourself, nor work too much, but take things
easier. I have nothing different to write about the war, or movements
here. What I wrote last Thursday, about Burnside's Corps being probably
used as a reserve, is still talked of here, and seems to be probable. A
large force is necessary to guard the railroad between here and Culpepper,
and also to keep from any emergency that might happen, and I shouldn't
wonder if the 9th would be used for such purpose, at least for the
present. I think the 51st must be down not very far from Fairfax Court
House yet, but I haven't heard certain.
Mother, I have seen a person up from front this morning. There is no
movement yet and no fighting started. The men are in their camps yet. Gen.
Grant is at Culpepper. You need not pay the slightest attention to such
things as you mention in the _Eagle_, about the 9th Corps--the writer of
it, and very many of the writers on war matters in those papers, don't
know one bit more on what they are writing about than Ed does. Mother, you
say in your letter you got my letter the previous afternoon. Why, mother,
you ought to [have] got it Wednesday forenoon, or afternoon at furthest.
This letter now will get in New York Wednesday morning, by daylight--you
ought to get it before noon. The postmaster in Brooklyn must have a pretty
set of carriers, to take twice as long to take a letter from New York to
you as it does to go from Washington to N. Y. Mother, I suppose you got a
letter from me Friday, also, as I wrote a second letter on Thursday last,
telling you the 9th Corps was camped then about sixteen miles from here.
About George's pictures, perhaps you better wait till I hear from him,
before sending them. I remain well as usual. The poor fellow I mentioned
in one of my letters last week, with diarrhoea, that wanted me to ask
God's blessing on him, was still living yesterday afternoon, but just
living. He is only partially conscious, is all wasted away to nothing, and
lies most of the time in half stupor, as they give him brandy copiously.
Yesterday I was there by him a few minutes. He is very much averse to
taking brandy, and there was some trouble in getting him to take it. He is
almost totally deaf the last five or six days. There is no chance for him
at all. Quite a particular friend of mine, Oscar Cunningham, an Ohio boy,
had his leg amputated yesterday close up by the thigh. It was a pretty
tough operation. He was badly wounded just a year ago to-day at
Chancellorsville and has suffered a great deal; lately got erysipelas in
his leg and foot. I forget whether I have mentioned him before or not. He
was a very large, noble-looking young man when I first see him. The doctor
thinks he will live and get up, but I consider [it] by no means so
certain. He is very much prostrated. Well, dear mother, you must write and
Jeff too--I do want to see you all very much. How does Mat get along, and
how little Sis and all? I send my love to you and Jeff and all. We are
having a very pleasant, coolish day here. I am going down to post office
to leave this, and then up to my old friends the O'Connors to dinner, and
then down to hospital. Well, good-bye, dear mother, for present.