Chapter IX

_Washington, Tuesday, May 5, 1863._ DEAREST MOTHER--Your letter came safe, and was very welcome, and always will be. Mother, I am sorry about your rheumatism--if it still continues I think it would be well for me to write a line to Mrs. Piercy, and get Jeff to stop with it, so that you could take the baths again, as I am sure they are very beneficial. Dear mother, you write me, or Jeff must in the next letter, how you are getting along, whether it is any better or worse--I want to know. Mother, about George's fund in the bank; I hope by all means you can scratch along so as to leave $250 there--I am so anxious that our family should have a little ranch, even if it is the meanest kind, off somewhere that you can call your own, and that would do for Ed etc.--it might be a real dependence, and comfort--and may-be for George as much as any one. I mean to come home one of these days, and get the acre or half acre somewhere out in some by-place on Long Island, and build it--you see if I don't. About Hannah, dear mother, I hardly know what advice to give you--from what I know at present I can't tell what course to pursue. I want Han to come home, from the bottom of my heart. Then there are other thoughts and considerations that come up. Dear mother, I cannot advise, but shall acquiesce in anything that is settled upon, and try to help.

The condition of things here in the hospitals is getting pretty bad--the wounded from the battles around Fredericksburg are coming up in large numbers. It is very sad to see them. I have written to Mr. Lane, asking him to get his friends to forward me what they think proper--but somehow I feel delicate about sending such requests, after all.

I have almost made up my mind to do what I can personally, and not seek assistance from others.

Dear mother, I have not received any letter from George. I write to him and send papers to Winchester. Mother, while I have been writing this a very large number of Southern prisoners, I should think 1,000 at least, has past up Pennsylvania avenue, under a strong guard. I went out in the street, close to them. Poor fellows, many of them mere lads--it brought the tears; they seemed our flesh and blood too, some wounded, all miserable in clothing, all in dirt and tatters--many of them fine young men. Mother, I cannot tell you how I feel to see those prisoners marched.