August 29th, 1862

Camp near Corinth, Mississippi August 29th, 1862
6 O’clock A.M.

Dear Mollie,
Seated on a small arm chair at my guard post with a bright sabre close at hand glittering in the sunshine. I take my pen to address you a few lines, I have two hours yet to stand (or sit as I please) guard and then my days work is done. A foraging party is just leaving camp, I hope they will bring something good to eat, I am in very good health and hope these few lines will find you and the children and all the friends enjoying the same great blessings. The weather here is quite cool for this latitude and the mornings are particularly pleasant.
I received a letter from Lucinda this week dated Aug. 19th. She stated that the folks were all well at the time of writing. She had been to a great war meeting at Watkins, she had never experienced such a time before. All the young men had enlisted to go to war, there was not a bean a piece for the girls. However she thought if they could keep up the government, she could stand it till the three years was up and then she could have a man, provided he didn’t get killed. I think she is both patient and patriotic, It had been just a year to a day, she said since he went away and it seems like two years. Who was it Mollie that went away to war on the 19th day of Aug. 1861?
I also received a letter from Mr. Beattie, he informs me that he had not collected any money from Converse yet and stated that he had written Jesse about it. I never mentioned receiving a letter containing a few lines to Jason Chapman. Did you receive such a letter? And if so did you send it to Jason? I wrote a letter to Richard a few days ago and directed it to his regiment, in care of Capt. Sterling, but as I don’t know where his regiment is or what division it is in, I don’t know as he will ever get it. The War news at this time is rather dry and uninteresting, there seems to be very little activity on either side though the papers still report rumors of the evacuation of Richmond.
10 O’clock,
Dear wife, I resume my pen after an hours intermission to write a little more. I have been waiting the arrival of the mail, hoping that I should get letter from you. The mail has come, others get letters from their friends but none for me. I tell you dear Mollie that I am somewhat disappointed and do not feel much like writing , but I know its not your fault and I will write to you, if yours don’t reach me.
I am seated beneath the broad spreading branches of a majestic beach, surrounded by dense undergrowth of elm, witch hazel, birch, and holly, through the thick branches of which only a ray of the sun finds its way now and then. Close by runs a small crooked creek which adds to the beauty of the scenery in whose chrystal waters the hardy and patriotic sons of Uncle Sam delight to bathe their feverish and dust beclouded bodies. Just as I am writing this a juvenile descendant of benighted Africa who has fled some inhuman monsters, and has sought and found protection under the ample folds of the glorious old stripes and stars, has come down the creek to wash the clothes of some human soldiers who are willing to pay him an equivalent for his services.
Verily this is the year of the Jubilee, to some whose necks for years have been galded by the yoke of bondage, I would to God that it could be the year of Jubilee to all who are held beneath the iron heal of the oppressor, but as noble writers say, I am digressing. This is a beautiful spot, and O! how I would like to spend the next Sabbath with my beloved family, right here in this very shade.
Well Mollie, my sheet is about full and I must close. I wrote you a letter last Sunday I think it was, you will not probably get it till you do this. I want you and Edgar to write as often as you can, and the rest of them as often as convenient. Mollie don’t show my letters to everybody, particularly not to those of tong (tongue) proclivities,
Yours ever,
Charlie