January 2, 1863. [Chattanooga] —Another year has commenced, alas! with bloodshed. When will it cease? I ask that question with nothing but echo for my answer. The North is putting forth all its energies to try and subjugate us, and seems determined to do its worst. May the God of hosts be with us!
A battle was fought at Murfreesboro on the 31st ultimo. We have come out of it victorious. Thousands of the enemy have been slain and wounded. We have taken upward of four thousand prisoners, and spoils of all kinds; but I can scarcely rejoice, for our wounded are coming in by the hundreds, and we have to witness the same sad spectacle as ever on such occasions. The weather is very cold, and I shudder to think what our men have had to suffer on the battle-field.
Our hospital is filled with wounded. Mrs. W. and myself are not able to do any thing for them. Dr. Thornton is sick. Dr. Hopping fills his place. I am anxious about my brother.
