Hilton Head July 7 1862

 

            My Dear Sue:—I received your letter of June 30 yesterday, also 4 others, and I enjoyed a rich treat perusing them by candlelight after a hard and busy days work on orderly duty. As you are aware before this we had to leave our position on james island, for some reason or other and come back to this place. The change was for the worse on more accounts than one. During our absence our old acquaintances, the Phleas, were very busy mutliplying, and inviting their friends to spend a month or eleven weeks with them, and when we returned they got up a demonstration and received us in big shape. They cling to us with joy and refuse to leave us even for a moment, saying, with tears in their eyes—“We won’t leave you: you can’t get rid of us; for if we let you go to fight again you might get killed, and then we should never see our dear sojer-boys any more!” They may be sincere and mean all right, but I think they are rather selfish and only want to suck us in! They cover the ground by thousands, and are most troublesome after dark. Our bodies are covered/ with blotches. Otherwise—hold on—one of the dear creatures has just gone up my trousers—ugh—how nervous it makes me to feel them crawl!

 

In the emphatic words of Toodles—“D—n—“ (not Thompson)—but—“Phleas!”

 

            Yes, we have got back from James Island, and what in the name of common sense we ever went there for I cannot see. Providing we had driven the rebels from their works back to Charleston, we could not have followed them for fort sumter lies close to it and could shell us all to pieces, unless the navy engaged them strong enough to keep them employed But I hope the codheads that led us will be satisfied with the glory they won, and continue to get drunk as usual.

 

            You may say that I growl too much and find a heap of fault; but there is mighty little to make us feel pleasant. Here we are undergoing everything, and the state governors and fools, or knaves, at Washington are peddling out commissions to a set of d—d scamps and jackasses in a manner that will continue this war until the country is ruined unless/ a great the tallest kind of luck comes in our favor! Them’s my sentiments!

 

            I am mighty glad to learn that you were all all well as usual at home. Poor Andrew must have suffered a great deal with his arm. I trust it will eventually be as well as ever. The nature of his wound was a deal worse than one made by a musket ball. I saw one poor fellow after the fight who had been wounded by a grape shot, two inches in diameter. The shot passed through the muscle of the left arm into the body, passing round to the back-bone, where it stopped. The ball was cut out and the man will probably recover soon.

 

            Poor John Goodwin died in the hospital here a few days ago. A ball struck him in the left side and passed around his back and lodged. It could not be found, and mortification set in. A man by the name of Marshall, whom I knew in Manchester, was wounded in the knee. His leg has been amputated and it is doubtful if he recovers. Some who were hurt the most, apparently, are recovering, while others with slight wounds sink and die. It is a sorrowful sight which one sees who makes a tour through our hospital./

 

I would give all the old clutter in Father’s cellar if the war was over and I was at home. It is all dreariness here.

 

I see that you are having a splendid summer in return for your cheerless winter. Good! Enjoy yourselves as much as possible; make hay while the sun shines: don’t put off any excursion until another day, but go right in and enjoy yourself hugely. I am glad to see that our parients, as Lizzie calls them, are improving the fine weather. How does little Coda thrive? and Annie and Walter? My health is good at present.

The likeness of your “sweet countenance” is very fine and the size and whole arrangement unique. The boys wanted me to say a good word for them to my sister, and I promised to. Those who had seen Sarah pronounced the likeness a “good thing” of my wife. When I opened the letter I spied what I thought slathers of postage stamps, and making the remark that they were just what I wanted I shoved them into my pocket and commenced reading. When I came to the “sweet countenance” I looked around for the picture high and low, supposing I had dropped it when taking the letter from the envelope. No go. couldn’t find it. Then I came to the conclusion that you had folded your letter, supposing the photograph to be inside, or that it had dropped out out after it was folded in. In fact I thought all sorts of things. Then I laughed to find that you had sent the letter without the picture. Finally a shrewd young man beside me suggested that “them ar postage stamps might be the damned thing,” and upon careful investigation I found they “war.” The mistake was natural, as you will see, when you remember the size, and the other pictures being on pasteboard I supposed yours would be. However I like this little one/ as well as one 40 foot square, and a great deal better. I shall be glad to get the children’s just as soon as you can send them along, and then when I show em to these fellers wot wanted to get acquainted with my sister, won’t they look queer?

Lizzie told me she would send hers, but has not done so. I expect it soon. Tell Henrietta to send hers with the babies pictures.

 

            We had a [?] 4^th of July. since coming back here we were allowed to go and come as we pleased any where within the stockade, but on the morning of the 4^th a guard was shoved on around the camp and we were treated as prisoners as we used to be, a few niggers being allowed within the lines with stuff to sell at four times its worth.—green corn 10 cts an ear—eggs 50 cts per doz—new potatoes 1 ct each. A nigger is of more consequence here than a white soldier.

 

There. I have given you your share for this time. I have five more to write, so don’t get put out. Accept my love and distribute it round among them all write again as soon as you can and oblige your affec brother

                                                                        Jas W. Rich

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