by John Beauchamp Jones
AUGUST 9TH—NO news from the armies.
Mrs. ex-President Tyler, who has already been permitted to visit her native State, New York, once or twice during the war—and indeed her plantation has been within the enemy’s lines—has applied for passage in a government steamer (the Lee) to Nassau, and to take with her “a few bales of cotton.” I suppose it will be “allowed.”
We have fine hot August weather now, and I hope my tomatoes will mature, and thus save me two dollars per day. My potatoes have, so far, failed; but as they are still green, perhaps they may produce a crop later in the season. The lima beans, trailed on the fence, promise an abundant crop; and the cabbages and peppers look well. Every inch of the ground is in cultivation—even the ash-heap, covered all over with tomato-vines.
Camp White, Charleston, West Virginia,
August 9 (Sunday), 1863.
Dear Mother: — It is a quiet, pleasant Sunday morning. A large number of the officers and men have gone over to town to church, leaving a few of us here “to keep house.”
Our Rebel friends are gathering in pretty strong force in our front. Many think it is with the intention of driving us out as soon as the roasting-ears are in condition to afford them food. I think, however, that they are merely concentrating to prevent us from making raids to destroy their important railroad to the Southwest. Whatever they mean, it is a comfort to know that we are giving occupation to a larger force of Rebels that they can well spare at this time.
Uncle writes that he expects to meet Lucy at Delaware or Columbus, and as she intends to visit you soon, I suppose you will see them all in a few days or weeks. I would be glad to be with you, but I am not expecting to be my own master before another year. — Love to all.
Affectionately, your son,
Rutherford.
Mrs. Sophia Hayes.
