camp Hicks, December 25, 1861, Christmas Morning.
Dear Mother, — “A merry Christmas,” said I to myself, for
want of a larger family-circle, as I put my head out into the morning while
reveillé was
rousing the camp. And into a brisk, crisp morning did I walk as I stepped from
my tent. The moon had not yet lost its flame, though the east was warming to
receive the coming sun. A light fall of snow, sent by Heaven to gladden the
day, had whitened tents and ground alike. Soon the sun kindled it into a
Christmas glisten and sparkle. Yes, the scene was the traditional holiday dress
of the season. And now, as I sit and write, my ears are full of the mellow
music of Auld Lang Syne from the band at guard-mounting. I believe I am
somewhat sensitive to the aspects and influences of air and sky and landscape.
This out-door life serves only to quicken and confirm such tendency. I am
always apt to thank God for a fine day, through which everything is bright and
promising. And Nature having put on her gayest winter merriment, I share her
gladness. So I give you all at home a Merry Christmas in this missive, and
here's a health to next Christmas with the war over.
Yet, even on this merry morning, I have a shadow, which, I
hope, is a mere distemper of the fancy. It comes from the sullen aspect of the
English news. I start with the faith which I cherish, that there can be no war
with England unless she is obstinately bent thereon. There is no adequate
cause. But all this preparation, all this arming and bluster, really gives an
air of probability to the suggestion that she madly desires to seize the
pretext and provoke a contest. I do hope not; for, with fair play, we are sure,
in the opening spring, of rapid, inspiriting, honorable success. Witness
McCall's cleverly managed affair at Drainsville. Its conception and execution alike
skilful. It contains proof, too, that our superior armament and equipment will
tell on every fair field
The incidents of the last year have frightened me out of
what little tendency to prophecy I may have had; but nothing save this cloud
from England could dispirit the hope with which I look forward to our coming
contest with the Rebellion
Will not our day come for a chance at the enemy? Again I
hope. There is no news. I am busy about the Examining Board; I am assailed by
several perplexities within the regiment; I am ennuied with inaction. But I am
well, and, on the whole, content. I am glad you should have a visit from
Colonel William.
My sergeant says : “I saw your brother, Colonel Dwight, at
the office, sir! He's a splendid officer, sir!” So echo I. Love and good wishes
to all.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 180-1
