Warrenton Va.           

Aug 9 1863.

                                   

Dear Sister.

                You see we still inhabit this little town. it is quite a pleasant place and it would not be considered any punishment at all by us if we were compelled to stay here a month.

 

            It seems a little like regular camp life, as it was on the Rappahannock. roll calls, surgeon's calls, guard mountings in the morning, Sunday morning inspection, and daily policing of quarters and company streets.

 

            And what makes it seem more so is the change in rations we are getting. On the march, we cannot get a great many things that is allowed us in our government rations. Beans we never get, rice, nor anything else / except what we can cook in our tin cups and spiders. Now that we have stopped here so long has given them a chance to bring up everything to us, even soft bread. For butter, I stew apples and sweeten them up good with sugar and it makes a pretty good substitute.

 

            You tell about its being hot weather home. it is slightually hot in these parts, but we have been heated, scorched, roasted, and almost drowned in sweat, so much lately on our marches, that we dont notice the heat when we can lie still. We are now in "terrible" comfortable quarters, as Granny would say. I have got the nicest little corduroy bed that you ever did see. (you never saw many did you) the poles are springy, and covered with long clean red top grass, and top of that is my woollen blanket, laid on double. at night when I go to / bed I all undress same as I would at home, then throw back one thickness of blanket and get in, and take a snooze. the bed is just high enough to make it comfortable for a seat in the day time. The tent is up pretty high, the bottom of it just a trifle lower than the bed so that the rain will run off on to the ground. When there is any air at all stirring it has a chance to come in all around on the bottom and in the door. Each Co. has a street of its own and the tents are all in one line, straight as an air line. The streets are each about as long as pretty near, from your house down to Parkman's and about thirty feet apart. It is a real pretty sight to stand off on the hill and look at the camp. I had almost forgot to tell you we had moved since my last letter. we are not quite so near the clouds now. 

 

Last Tuesday afternoon (in the other camp) we were visited with a perfect hurricane of wind and water (water it wasnt rain) Almost every tent was leveled to the ground Gen Bartletts was all down except two. lightning struck so near that everybody received a shock. The next day we moved. We have considerable duty to do here. 100 men a day goes out of the brigade on patrol, another 100 goes out on foraging expedition and another 100 is on camp guard, so it brings us on some kind of duty every third day. There is not so many men in the brigade now as there was came out with the 2^nd R.I. regiment. what I mean is, that report for duty with arms.

 

Your last letter came through double quick. I got it Wednesday, four postage stamps in it. Did you write two weeks ago today? I have not got one of that date yet. I cut my foot this morning with a sharp stone, cut clear to the bone. if it gets well before we march I am all right, if not, not. There is nothing serious about it only it would be bad travelling on it. Lowell C. Cook.

 

[top front margin upside down]

 

Beans for dinner hurra'

 

I have got a story to read today "The blue flag"

 

Googins is to be pitied, why dont some one take him to bring up. He will have to be quarteened if he goes on in this way wont he. It aint always boys that act foolish going after the gals is it.

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