Dear Mother, — I saw the chaplain of the 3d Maryland Regt. the other day. His name is Breckman, or something of the sort. He knows Aunt Harriet, and seems to think everything of her, and wished me to send her his very kindest regards. He is a great Swedenborgian, and says that Aunt Harriet has given $100 a year for the support of his paper. I found him a very intelligent and highly educated man, and a very agreeable one, too. Please remember me to Aunt Harriet with my best wishes for her health, and tell her that I saw this gentleman.
I am in a horribly filthy condition. Our baggage we have not seen since the beginning of the campaign. It was put on board a scow at White House, and I suppose is lost by this time. I have a change of underclothes, which I carry in my saddle-bag, but am sorry to say that they are in as bad a condition as those I have on; viz., full of animals. I have them boiled every chance I get, but as the whole regiment is in the same condition that I am, it does not seem to do any good. I don’t get any chance to bathe all over, as I don’t dare to leave the regiment long enough to find a brook. On the whole, I shall be glad enough when this campaign is over.
Give my love to Henry and Arthur, and tell Henry that I am very sorry that he has broken his arm, and that I hope he will soon get well.
