Nashville, Tenn.            March 1. 1864

 

My dear sister.

                        It apears, you consider me indebted to you for an answer to a letter written to me some time since;—it must be of such an ancient date, that I cannot even remember its receipt, leave aside, that I overlooked its reply;—however, I wont stand upon the mere fact of owing or not owing you a letter and if you will give me credit with this epistle, we’ll call it square all around,—agreed?—News from this place I do not expect to entertain you with,—for a military Post, however full of life and energy, grows insipid and one tires of seing blue coats and shoulder straps, little stars and big stars—and hear the rumbling of army wagons and the beating of drums to the invariable tune of “when this cruel war is over” and “The girl I left behind me”. Methinks, some of those girls must have tamed the veteran soldiers pretty well, for as noisy as they were, on their way home, they pass again to the field of action, passive and quiet as lambs. Activity unknown and hardly thought of at home,—or as the soldiers term the North—God’s country—, pervades every branch of the great army, and none can doubt the presence of a master spirit—my reference it is to Genl. Grant, who can be seen/any day, unattendet by as much as one orderly, walking about the streets,—watching everything coming within the reach of his eye, and bringing changes about so quietly and with so little parade, that no one would suspect his presence.—

 

To such a homebody like myself, military paegants and camp life grew irksome very soon and I would give more for one good romp with my boy Charley than witness all displays of the kind; nor am I alone in that feeling,—but few, but who desire to return home and rest contend on the laurels won as a soldier. I met a young lady however last Sunday, whose spirits are exceeding boyant and whose eyes are so dazzled with the glitter of brass buttons and shoulder straps, as to be fairly carried away with delight. In company of Major Wesley Boyd, I visited Miss Nellie Patterson and had a couple of hours of very pleasant visit. She looks and appears very well and receives so much attention from officers of all grades (as she informed me), as allmost to turn her little head. The duty of returning to Rockford to see her parents, who she told me, were soon to be there, appears very plain to her,—but how to break off from entertaining Colonels, and Captains and Lieutenants, to miss being serenaded by silver bands,—is a matter, that makes that duty rather a matter serious question to be considered!—Dont “consider” me cynical, Lona,—but to my matter of fact mind and with “no market” to make, it is a study, to watch the working of such an enthusiastic, joyful, dazzled/mind as Nellie’s, and I agreed with Major Boyd “that she is a good, innocent girl, but a rattle bore”. How it happened that she has been in Nashville since last November and I did not hear of it through you, is rather strange;—did you know, she was here?—

 

Well, Lona, I presume, tired of hearing the prattle of my babies, the quiet, by their absence, is refreshing to you.—Sarah enjoyed herself very much and acknowledges your kindness to her in strong terms. If my thanks to you can in any way repay for your friendliness to those dearest to me, you have them in abundant numbers.—

 

In all probability you are expecting to see me also, ere many weeks;—intending for and having even the promise of a furlough in April, I shall believe of going home, when the papers, granting me the time, are in my hands. I, therefore am not so positive of coming, as to make it a certainty.—

 

We are passing the salutation of “merry christmas” to day,—not on account of the proper season for it, but of the very unseasonable snow storm we are now in the midst of. The trees are covered with ice, from a rain accompanied with cold winds since last Sunday and to day we have the streets covered with snow.—The cry of amalgamation is so strong through the land, that it seems the climates have heard of it and mire the weather of the cold North with the balmy air of the sunny South!—I received a/letter from Adjt. Nieman yesterday;—the first I have had in months. He is back with the 74^th;—reports all well himself included.—

 

I trust, you are in good health and will continue to keep so.—I myself feel the effect of a hard cold and feel as though I had been on a spree.—The setting in of good weather will get me all right again, I hope.—Please, give my kind regards to all the members of your family,—especial regards to M^r Frank Cunningham.—

 

Returned soldiers tell me, that Rockford is very dull and complain, that anything short of an Officer, is treated hardly with common civility. That something of a spirit of imagined superiority exists in the majority of the inhabitants of that lovely burgh is true enough, but I am not willing readily to believe, that a man is treated with indifference, who for $13⁰ a month risks for three years longer, life and limb to shelter those very people from the aggressions of a horde of beings, that they know nothing of by ought more than reading of them by their comfortable firesides!—How is it, Lona?—am I misinformed? for the credit of a christian community and a boasted patriotic town, I hope, it is not so.—From In other portions of the country, soldiers are well treated and their brief stay at home, made pleasant.—

 

But I must close this already too long letter and bid you an affectionate good bye,

                                    Your brother

                                                            Edward Gilbert

Tell John, I dont need any of his penny-a-grab-cigars!—

SOURCES