N. Stonington Feb. 18^th 1865

My Darling

                        I am home at last. we came home yesterday. We had been expecting to come home for two weeks, but they would not bring us until yesterday “Mi” brought us home. She went back to-day. We found everything all right. Your heifer we found had got a calf. Done well. Mother has let the place to-day to Amos Allen for (71) dollars. He is to have all the land and all the east part of the house. we are to have the west room and bed room and west chamber. Mother talks strong of selling your heifer. She cannot keep them with the place/let so she is going to let Ben’s folks take theirs and sell yours. We shall not keep anything not even to a hen. I guess Elder Weaver will hire Amos’ house. He wants it pretty bad. I went to a singing school last evening down to Deacon Browns. They all seemed to be very glad to see me I wonder if they were!

The Singing schools are not what the used to be. I think they are getting prouder, and most of them are very stylish but I fancy I can be as brilliant as any of them when I choose to. I would like to have my officer here to a few such gatherings with his Shoulder Straps. I think it is all we lack. I received your letter yesterday and I was exceedingly happy to receive it. it has/been such a long time since you have written before. Mother Stanton said she guessed you was mad because I did not send the money, but you know I would have sent it if I had had it. I will send you ten in this that I borrowed of Mother Stanton, would have sent you more but guess that is all she cares to lend. Your letter was very good, and written beautifully, but it seems to me there was something peculiar about it. I have read it over a good many times, and it seems to me a little cool. Does Court love his “Mamie” just as well as ever? or is she so ugly that he cannot? I wish I knew just what you think of me. You say you have not been in a proper state of mind to write. I wish I knew what you meant I expect I am awful hateful. I wish I was good/so Court could love me. but with all my faults I love you God knows how well. Oh Court! if you could only come home I’d teach you to love me better than ever before. I want to see you so much and I have got so much to say to you. How slow the time goes off. Will the term of your service never expire? My God! it makes me half crazy to think of it. Can I ever wait? but I suppose I may as well be contented, for I shall have to. but it seems so long. I do wish you could come home. You might tell them that your wife was unfaithful, and then come home and see I have been expecting you, but have given it up now as you say you can’t come. Did you ever see such looking writing—quite a contrast to yours but I cannot write good with this pen. I will write again soon.

                                                                                    Good-bye

                                                                                                Mary.