Major Wilder Dwight: October 16, 1861

pleasant Hill, October 16, 1861.

I always have an impulse to write when I get a letter, and as yours of last Friday gladdened me this evening, I am pen in hand again, though without a story. No! I have one, now I think of it. My maiden lady friend of the spinning-wheel and flower-garden came to see me to-day. She and her brother in their best. I gave them my hospitalities, showed them the camp, &c., and made them very content. They are full of patriotic ardor. Its form of expression is various. The good lady brought me to-day as a present, first, two quarts of milk; second, a pair of roast chickens; third, two loaves of bread; fourth, some preserved cherries; fifth, two apple-pies; sixth, an immense bouquet of roses and dahlias; seventh, a bottle of balsam for cuts and bruises, and “other wounds,” — whether of the heart or not the stanch maiden did not explain; eighth, some butter. I am persuaded that she brought me everything that occurred to her mind as possible.

The Colonel had quite a joke over my trophies; but I noticed he ate the pies, and liked the cherries. It is refreshing to see two honest country folk loving their flag with such naïve simplicity.

They wish “they could only do something,” and just now I seem to be the object of their baffled patriotism. There is no evading the constancy of their attachment; their love of country will express itself on me. The bouquet, which is half as tall as I am, fills my tent with its fragrance while I write, and it is of an obtrusive and ardent gayety, which seems almost out of season among the falling leaves of October.

Though I date this letter to-day, it was begun last night, and will progress slowly, I am afraid, amid the interruptions of this morning. One does not see exactly what has been accomplished by living a day in this camp; but he finds, as the hours pass, that something claims attention pretty much all the time.

I am just now going out to skirmish-drill with the bugle. It is a part of the military duty which I fully understand, and, accordingly, I like to perform it. I hope it won't be long before I can say the same of all parts. . . . .

Tell Lillie and Charlie P. that I am glad they are knitting for their country, and I should like to come over and take tea some evening.

SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 117-8