Dec. 15, 1864.—It seems like folly to keep writing letters to you when they accumulate on my hands, yet they may be of some interest to you when you get them. When that will be I can not even guess. The blockade still continues, and except a very few vague and unreliable rumors we know nothing of what is transpiring north of us.
Our life here is almost perfect stagnation now— nothing of interest going on. I have moved the regiment to better ground and nearer my headquarters, and I spend part of each day there. Then I ride around and look at the fortifications, and visit the regiments of the brigade when the weather is pleasant, and thus manage to get through the day. Our fortifications are nearly complete, and Stevenson is very strong now. I apprehend no attack, however. This uncertainty is wearing.
