Camp Near
Falmouth, Va.
Dec. 31st, 1862.
My dear Sister
Lillie:
I have just received your letter, and am much troubled to hear that
mother has been ill. As you were intending to write me on New Year's eve, I
have concluded to write you in turn, knowing it to be all one, whether I write
you or mother. I am specially disposed to write to-night as I feel very
good-natured. I am not troubled for the moment, either with the goadings of
disappointed ambition, the peculiarities of Scotchmen, the inclemency of the
weather, or even with “the unfortunate Abraham Lincoln.” In a word, I am
determined to be good-humored in bidding farewell to the old year,
notwithstanding it is responsible (either it, or the aforesaid Abraham) for so
many disasters. If all the hopes so fondly entertained at the beginning of the
year have not been realized, we know at least that Providence doeth all things
well, if not exactly as man would have it.
 |
| MARY HARTWELL CHITTENDEN Whom W. T. Lusk married May 4, 1864 |
The Highlanders mean to celebrate the New Year, as the accompanying
card will show. Turkeys, hams, tongues, bread and butter and a bowl of punch
will be furnished to visitors, and we hope they may be many. But pleasantest of
all, Hall is coming to visit me, bringing with him a Dr. Hubbard of his
regiment — an Uncle of pretty little Mary Chittenden. If we don't have a good
time, then I'll hang up my sword on a willow tree, but you will have to wait
until the second inst. for particulars. I had a good time Christmas too, and
only regret you should have spent it so quietly. You see I raised a pair of
ducks and rode up with them tied to my saddle to Stafford C. H. (ten miles),
found Hall, eat the ducks (with Hall's assistance), gossiped, and made very
merry, though I had so recently written home representing myself so very
miserable. Yesterday I made Major Crosby of the 21st C. V. a visit, and found
that I used to go to school with him to old Peltis up-town. We had a right good
time of it. His heart so warmed toward me finally, that he brought out a loaf
of cake made by his wife's fair fingers—good cake it was too. Speaking of cake
reminds me that the Chaplain, my tent companion, has just received a cake from
his sweetheart. Oh these sweethearts! Chaplain receives every mail pretty pink
notes which he likes to be joked about. He likes the cake too.
Hall thinks I have grown dreadfully unrefined. I smoke a pipe and eat
onions. Horrible, isn't it? Would you really like your brother at home, who can
do such dreadful things? I can't come. I've tried, but Rhadamanthus, that is
Old Bull Sumner, is adamant, and bids me wait until I catch swamp fever or lose
a leg, when I will be able to return with flying colors. I tried in fact to
take the Bull by the horns, and that's what I got for my pains. Dear me, I'm
growing older every day, so you can imagine how old I shall be when I get home.
Well, sister Lillie, I would try and be sentimental in view of New
Year's Eve, but that could hardly be looked for in a man that eats onions. But
may many blessings rest on both my sisters, my mother and the little ones that
are dear to us all. True love between you and Tom, between Hunt and Mary,
deepening not weakening at each successive return of the New Year.
Had I my six months' pay, and twenty days to spend at home, how I would
make things fly around.
Again love to mother, Uncle Phelps, Aunt Maria, Nellie, Tom, friends
individually, collectively, and in bulk.
Affec'y, your
brother,
Will.
SOURCE: William Chittenden Lusk, Editor, War Letters
of William Thompson Lusk, p. 261-3
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