Norwich, Conn.
September 12th, 1862.
My own dear Son:
You see I am following out my resolution to write you every day, although I have many doubts about your receiving one half the letters I write. There is a great dearth of news. Pope’s report with its censures is exciting remark, and I trust the country will demand a full investigation as soon as the public necessity will permit. Jeff Davis’ Proclamation is highly entertaining in view of past acts; however, that we care little about, his words are nothing. I wish I knew where you are, and where the last turn in the wheel has placed you. I suppose Gen. Stevens’ part in the last battles, together with that of his Division, can never be known. It is specially hard, because his gallantry and the splendid fighting done by his troops were in the first accounts acknowledged.
The death of young Matteson I feel sorely on your account. It seems as though the storm had swept over you; your General killed, friends wounded or ill. I stop and think: “What am I that God should so preserve the precious life of my son? Should guard his health, should guide his steps? May I be grateful as I ought, may I be more trustful.”
We have so hoped we might see you, that Hunt and Mary have had a room furnished in the wing, hoping you would be the first to occupy it.
13th. I wrote Horace a day or two since, giving an account of Gen. Stevens’ death from your letter, saying if it possessed any interest for the public he might give it to Godwin of the Post, and this morning I saw it published there.[1] I am glad, because so little has been said of this brave man by any of the New-York papers except the Tribune. I have written Mrs. Stevens a letter of sympathy for her loss. I wanted her to know, and to feel, that the Nation weeps for her illustrious dead. I wrote her I took the liberty of offering her my sympathy, because personally I felt her husband’s loss most deeply for his kindness to my son.
Mr. Benedict is below in the library with Hunt. His brother, who was taken prisoner some time ago, but recently released, has been appointed Colonel of one of the new N. Y. regiments. Our Governor I hear excuses his want of consideration for you by saying it would have been different if you had belonged to a Conn. Regiment, so I suppose you are considered as belonging to New-York. Good-bye, my own dear son. God bless you always. I thank him for your perservation.
Love from all to you, and kind words to Major Elliott.
Lovingly,
Mother.
[1] N. Y. Evening Post of Sept. 12th, 1862.
