December 22d, 1864.
I walked three miles and waited until 9 o’clock this evening, so sure was I of tidings from home. I waited in vain. I was disappointed but not disheartened. Surely tomorrow I will be more fortunate, and if not tomorrow, I will still wait patiently, trusting that all is well.
I do not know why it is. but I cannot feel downhearted of late. Whether it is owing to the buoyant health I now enjoy, the conviction that the crisis is passed and peace is about to smile upon our bloodstained land; or that the time is drawing nigh when I may return to my loved ones; whether it be either or all of these, I cannot tell, but so it is. I feel a lightness and buoyancy of mind and body that I have been a stranger to for years.
I do not forget, even for one moment, the sufferings to which my family are exposed this terrible winter, and I thank God for putting it into the heart of Brother Salmon to furnish them firewood and for other acts of kindness.
We are having cold weather here just now. It actually froze a little last night. Snow fell on the tenth, about an inch deep. In a day or two the sun came out and it fled from before the brightness of his face. Our winters here are about like Michigan, with December, January and February left out.
