Jacksonville, Fla.,
Sunday, March 27, 1864.
Dear Sister L.:—
Again the mail has come and no letter from you. Nine days have I waited in the confident expectation that if that boat ever did come I should certainly get some letters. It comes and I get a short note from Father only. My papers come, so I know that it is not the fault of communication. What is the matter? Has some one reported me dead, and have you got on mourning for me already? Am I set down in your mind as an inmate of the Libby, and are you torturing your brain with thoughts of the fate of a “nigger officer”? If you are, cease now and henceforth. Do you never believe I’m dead or in prison, even if you see all the particulars in the papers. Wait till you get the news in writing from Captain Dickey or Lieutenant Thompson. Both have your address and will be sure to write immediately in case anything occurs to prevent my writing.
Rumor says to-night that we have a new commander, General Hatch. I hope it may prove true, for whatever may be General Seymour’s talents, he certainly does not possess the confidence of the officers or men of this department, and without that it is difficult to succeed in anything.
Do you want to know how I spend my time here? Well, in the first place I am a member of a court-martial that meets every morning at 10 o’clock. If there is business enough we sit till 3 or 4 p. m., and then adjourn, but usually we get through much earlier. Then I come back to camp, and after dinner I read or write or play chess. I play a great deal lately and the more I learn the more I like it. It is a noble game and I am determined to be no mean player. I have already beaten the best player I can find in the regiment, and I mean to get so I can do it every time. Last winter I used to play “euchre” or “old sledge,” but it never improved me much. Chess on the contrary is a never ending study. Dr. Franklin called it the “King of Games.”
After I get through the chess, I wonder when the mail will come and whom my letters will be from. It is very easy to tell whom the last were from, or rather whom they were not from. By George, I shall be driven to the necessity of advertising in the Waverly for correspondents or initiating another cousinly affair.
Tell me if you get a paper every two or three days, a letter once a week, a package of Florida moss, an envelope of orange blossoms. All these I’ve been sending.
I wrote to you that I had found Almon Ploss and the Wait’s Corners boys.
