Saturday morning. — I intended to send this by courier this
morning, but in the press of business, sending off couriers, prisoners, and
expeditions, I forgot it. Telegraph is building here. Anything happening to me
will be known to you at once. It now looks as if we would find no enemy to
fight.
The weather yesterday and today is perfect. The mountains
are in sight from all the high grounds about here, and the air pure and
exhilarating. The troubles of women who have either been burnt out by Secesh or
robbed of chickens and the like by us, are the chief thing this morning. One
case is funny. A spoiled fat Englishwoman, with great pride and hysterics, was
left with a queer old negro woman to look after her wants. Darky now thinks
she is mistress. She is sulky, won't work, etc., etc. Mistress can't eat pork
or army diet. There is no other food here. The sight of rough men is too much
for her nerves! All queer.
We are now eighty-five miles from the head of navigation in
time of flood and one hundred and twenty-five in ordinary times; a good way
from “America,” as the soldiers say.
“I love you so much.” Kiss the dear boys. Love to Grandma.
Ever so affectionately,
Yours,
R.
Mrs. Hayes.
SOURCE: Charles Richard Williams, editor, Diary and
Letters of Rutherford Birchard Hayes, Volume 2, p. 247
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