Camp Near Seneca, November 8, 1861.
Your letter and C–––’s and D–––'s all came last evening. I
was right glad to see them. They warmed and cheered me on the coldest night of
our camping experience. . . . , Colonel Gordon goes off to-day, on a
leave of absence, for a short visit home Colonel Andrews is getting better, but
is still shut up, and must be for some time; so I am left in command. Of course
there will nothing happen but the quiet recurrence of reveillé, drill, and tattoo, but
it is a different feeling to have the ropes in your own hands. I am afraid my
last letter was a little dull. It was written, towards its close, to the
depressing sound of a band rehearsal of the Dead March for a coming funeral.
Such clouds will overhang one's paper, and leave their shadow. But they are
mere shadows. Our hope and faith are as firm as ever, and the world wags on. .
. . .
Tell Mrs. Ticknor that I have no statement of our wants or
wishes to add to those already made, unless it be for woollen mittens, which
would, of course, be gladsome to the men if they are to stay here, of which we
can know nothing. Mind, I do not ask for any of these things, but state the
case merely. Love to all. Tell he is the dearest fellow in the world.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 139-40
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