Camp California Jan 3^rd/62

 

            Miss Lou. Craig

                                    Much esteemed friend,

                                                                        Days weeks months have rolled in solemn silence by, the Old Year has been whirled in mute obedience into the cycles of the past, and the New Year been ushered into existence fraught with trembling hopes and anxious fears. events big with meaning have cast their shadows, unrolled their historic pages to the earnest gaze, and been numbered with the things that were. league upon league has been added to the distance twixt you and I. each remove carries us farther and farther towards the sunny land of “Dixie”. new scenes have come and gone, and the “farmer boy been transferred into a “trained soldier” in the field of active service since I have written to you. And what, friend Lou, shall be my excuse Shall it be, that duty has been too onerous and time too scarce? No, that would not do, for you would say that others have time and why not I? ‘twould only be partial. Shall it be that I have forgotten an old friend, have suffered the fires of friendship to burn low? Ah! no! Else I would not/ resume the correspondence at the eleventh hour. Shall it be then, because you have been kept posted up by several others of our company and informed of all matters of interest transpiring among us? Maybe, that you say this is but a faint excuse. Well, I guess you will have to put the first and last together—and graciously condescend to pardon the omission. I had supposed that Mr. Chambers would write as many letters as you would care for answering, and I did not know but he would feel himself aggrieved to think that others were enjoying a portion of the correspondence which he might wish to appropriate wholly and solely to himself. But come now Lou, don’t let your cheek be flushed, or your angry passions rise, but say in sober truth, isn’t that a pretty good apology any how at least in dimensions. I have about concluded it will do & have some notion of changing the subject.

 

Well in the first place, I am the same “Wils” that I was four months ago, neither much better nor much worse. Have gained several pounds and enjoyed good health, and I think that the “Mustache” is improving rapidly, so much so, that I have some idea of getting it photographed. I guess that will do for self.

 

Well in the next place, we are just argueing on the propriety of playing cards. As you know my sentiments on that question I will not iterate them.

 

In the next place it is raining gently, the first for five weeks, and it sounds so nice pattering on the sheeted roof. We have fixed up a good table in our “pigpen” (a four square pen four ft/ high with a tent on top). Cy is sitting at my right hand, writing to friend “Mattie S.”—while Ed. Smith is writing at my left. “Dave” is out ripping round among the boys, more full of life and fun than ever, and Henry is gone to Washington, to be instructed as a signal Officer. Cannot say what his rank or pay will be. he left today. Now you have our places this evening.

 

The next on the list is New Years, but that is past. And where is Christmas. The last I saw of it was one day out in a dense pine forest towards Manasses, when some boys were doing picket duty. Oh, dear we looked round for some parched corn (I meant roast turkey) sweetmeat &c but in vain. We searched our haversacks but found nothing except bread and cold meat. I’ll wager you had a better dinner than that.—However on New Years we fared somewhat better. All of our men were in camp and had nothing special to attend to, so we concluded to have an oyster dinner, and we had one, and in addition to them we had nice beef cakes, pies, cider and cigars &c. We thought it splendid. We think we will hire out for cooks when we go home.

 

We have just been tossing to see who would treat, and in consequence thereof, the pies are coming in. we pitch into them, we devour them, they are good.—but here comes some more. I must stop and help eat them.—Hallo, there is the drum’s beating for roll call—dear me! it is raining hard and we will get wet.—Oh, what it is to be a soldier!/

 

Do you have any parties this winter, or are the young men so scarce that you can not get up any parties.—never mind—there will be a good time when the war is over.—then look out for fun.

 

I have been down in Alexandria several times it is a very pretty place—much larger than I anticipated. Some of the mansions are very tasty, and it certainly is a very aristocratic town. There many fine looking young Ladies but they look on us Northerners with abhorrence being very badly tainted with secession proclivities. Nearly all the young men of the place are in the rebel Army—about 700.

 

Davis Wallace and Ed. Smith were up at the Pa. Reserves, saw Todd Wallace and others of your acquaintances—heard their story about the Drainsville fight. Ell. Torrence had a bullet hole through his blouse. One of their Company Alex Smith was badly wounded.

 

As the taps have sounded I must close. Give my kind regards to all the family, and the Misses Huston. Tell Alick that I will try and find an opportunity to drop him a line soon. If we don’t get into a big fight first. You need not be surprised to hear of stirring news from this part of the “Old Dominion” before many weeks are past. Now, Lou, don’t follow my example and delay writing as long as I did—it is a bad practice do not commence it or you will find hard work to break off—Hoping to hear from you soon I remain Your friend

 

                                    as ever

                                                J. Wils. Barnett

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