Camp White, August 15 (Saturday afternoon), 1863.
Dearest: — Hottest day yet. All busy trying to keep cool. A dead failure all such attempts. A year ago today we set out for Maryland and east Virginia. A swift year.
You don’t write often these days. You don’t love me so much as you did. Is that it? Not much! You are as loving as ever, I know, only it is a bore to write. I know that. So it’s all right and I am as fond of you as I was when you were only my sweetheart. Yes, more too. Well, write when you can comfortably.
I am going to inspect the Thirteenth at Coal’s Mouth tomorrow; take the band along for the fun of it.
I ride about, read novels, newspapers, and military books, and sleep a power. We shall go up to Lewisburg, I guess, in two or three weeks to see after the Rebels in that quarter. All quiet in our borders now. . . . Love to all.
Yours, with great warmth,
R.
Mrs. Hayes.
