Tuesday Jan 6^th 1863.

 

My Very Dear Martha

                                    It is stormy this afternoon so we do not drill. I am very glad of the opportunity of writing to you. The happiest moments I spend are those which I spend in reading your letters and in writing to you. When writing I sometimes forget that hundreds of miles separate us and almost fancy that I am with you. What a blessing it is that we can thus hold converse with each other and share each others joys and sorrows. This separation of 9 months would be unendurable to me if in all that time I could not hear from you. In both our expeditions a great many poor blacks have joined us on our return leiving behind them wives and children whom they may/ never see again in this world. How great to them would be the privalege of writing But no. The iron heel of despotism has been upon them and deprived them of the privalege of learning and they must seek their freedom if they seek it at all leiving behind dear friends, dear to them as ours are to us, in slavery of whose fate they shall never learn untill a just God shall summon oppressors and oppressed before Him in judgement. How great to them trust must be the worth of freedom when sought at such a cost. Sometimes whole families join us father, mother, and children, even infants at the breast, but then the case is scarcely better for in the long marches the poor little things get completely tired out, and though I do not know it, I have no doubt many are compelled to fall behind and again fall into the hands of the cruel taskmaster. On our last expedition I fell behind one day into the group of negroes who/ under the protection of our army were trying to gain their freedom. There were quite a number of children among them no larger than Eddie. It made me think of him, and I hope I felt grateful that our lot was cast in more favorable circumstances. When we contrast our circumstances with theirs is there not a great deal to cause us to almost forget our own sorrows and privations in the far greater ones which they endure. I hate slavery as I never hated it before.

 

And yet there are those in the army and in this company too who because they do not find the negroes possessed of all the intelligence which they fancy themselves possessed of are willing to join hands with their oppressors in depriving them of the few rights which they now enjoy

 

It saddens and provokes me both. I supposed that soldiers from Mass/ would be the last persons to trample upon the rights of any body but in some cases I have been sadly disappointed.

 

            I presume there may be some subjects you would like to have me write upon that I do not reach if so you must write so as I sometimes scarcely know what will be interesting.

 

I think I wrote you that we had been having beautiful weather, it has continued untill now. For a week we have had the pleasantest evenings I ever knew. It has been light enough almost anytime during the night to see to read quite fine print by moonlight.

 

I am very well as yet. My cold of which I think I wrote you, is better. I do not think I feel quite as strong as when at home but I feel well. I suppose the difference in strength is owing to the difference in climate. The natives here all seem to lack in energy. They have a drawling tone and gate as if it were too much work to talk or walk. They may extoll the “Sunny South” as much as they please, but give me the cold bracing north.

 

It is almost suppertime and for tonight I will close this rambling letter. When I know of the mail leiving I will write more. How I should love to come in and spend the evening with you..

            Good night. Your own “Johney.”

 

[front margin] I wrote this some time ago but think I will send it though it is not worth reading Do not feel alarmed anytime when letters fail to reach you in time for the mail is liable to be kept back any time as it has now.

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