There was a cavalry fight across the river yesterday, and I am told that we whipped them and took three hundred prisoners. We have been taking so many prisoners recently that we must be up with the Yankees again, or we may even have more of them in prison than they have of our men. We now have no prospect of a fight on a grand scale, and I suppose we shall go into winter quarters before much longer.
Old Jim Beauschelle, our chaplain, is out of prison and is back with us again. He was at Fort Delaware awhile, and was then sent to Johnson's Island in Lake Erie. He looks better than I ever saw him. He has a new hat, new shoes, and everything new, and looks like a new man. He speaks very highly of the Yankees and the way they treated him and of the good fare they gave him. He seems perfectly delighted with the North and the Yankees. I am sorry they did not handle him rather roughly and cure him of his wonderfully good opinion of them.
Your brother tells me you look better than you did before you were married. He says George is badly spoiled and that he will cry if you crook your finger at him. I am sorry to hear that he has been sick. In your letter you speak of his being pale and thin from teething.
I now feel quite sure that I shall be able to get home before much longer, but don't look for me until you see me walk in.
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