_Washington, May 18, 1864._ DEAREST MOTHER--I will only write you a hasty
note this time, as I am pretty tired, and my head feels disagreeable from
being in too much. I was up yesterday to Carver hospital and again saw the
man of the 51st, Thos. McCowell, who told me of George, up to latter part
of Thursday, 12th inst. I questioned him, and his story was very clear, so
I felt perfectly satisfied. He is wounded in hand; will be transferred
soon to New York and may call on you. He is a young Irishman, and seems to
be a very good fellow indeed. I have written to George, day before
yesterday. Did you send my last letter to Han? If not, send it yet.
Mother, I see such awful things. I expect one of these days, if I live, I
shall have awful thoughts and dreams--but it is such a great thing to be
able to do some real good; assuage these horrible pains and wounds, and
save life even--that's the only thing that keeps a fellow up.
Well, dear mother, I make such reckoning of yet coming on and seeing you.
How I want to see Jeff, too--O, it is too bad I have not written to him so
long--and Mat, too, and little California and all. I am going out now a
little while. I remain first rate, as well as ever.