Monday. What dreary rainy weather! The storm still continues without any prospect of cessation. such a rain I never seen. The pickets and sentinels at their posts are certainly entitled to our sympathy. I am on duty to day, but there is nothing special to do, every man seems to know his duty and none are out of the quarters unless compelled to do duty. The citizens say that we may look for rainy weather nearly all winter, as this is the commencement of the “rainy season.” I much prefer the clean cold bracing air of Iowa to the cold rains of Mo. It is not freezing, but still it seems very chilly. The clothes that I wear here now would keep me warm in Iowa in the middle of winter, with the mercury at zero. It is said that ice seldom freezes here strong enough to bear one. It is a country possessed of a rich soil, and a season sufficiently long to mature the fruits and grains of the temperate zones, but that is all there is to recommend it, a flat level unhealthy region destitute of water in the summer, except along the rivers, and then so strongly impregnated with sulphur and iron, that one accustomed to the pure waters of Iowa could not drink it. We use the river water here which from now until April or May is very good for Soldiers—when they can get no better /

 

I think it will do me good to live here awhile, for when I get back to Iowa I will be cured of the inclination to sometime live in the south that I have had for many years. I have never found it in my roamings, and I think I can conclude that Iowa is at least good enough, that there is enough that is pleasant there, for us to live contentedly. Sometime Annie our hopes will be realized, somewhere on the prairie we will have a home of peace and joy, & love. We can be happy then, and the sacrifices we have made, the trials we have endured, will make us the better contented and happy. It seems that I should be, and I know you would be, much more happily situated under somewhat different circumstances. I hope it will be all right in a month or two. You write about making a confidant of me—This was right. I hope you will be very careful about your confidential friends. I know you are, and feel that it is unnecessary to caution you about it. As we have talked of this “in the happy days gone by”—You remember, and I know your goodness and that you will be careful /

 

You wonder if I am ever thinking about you, you say. Why dont I write you nearly every day? I have not missed more than half a dozen days since we came here, that I did not write to you that was because I was busied with something that had to be done. I have spent 2 days writing this letter. Is it any wonder I write long letters? It may not get away for a day or two, but it is expected the mail will leave in the morning, and I desire this to go then. There is a rumor in the camp that a portion of this detachment will go to the country after supplies—foraging—for Hay, potatoes and beef. If it should so happen that Co “I.” should go I may be along, and then you may not hear from me for a week or more. We will not go until the rain is over, and the roads are in better condition. When that will be I cannot tell, from appearances not very soon. I am still of the opinion that you can come and see me in the course of a month. I would be so glad if you could. If no accident occurs to prevent my allotment to you being paid promptly, I think you might come next month. I would try and meet you at Cairo or Columbus, at the former place if possible, or you might come all the way alone, If you have sufficient courage, which I doubt somewhat. / You would have no difficulty in coming as far as Cairo by Rail Road, but we will further investigate this subject when I hear from you, on the If it is true as we hear that the war is nearly over, we will not likely leave here, for the further south. I hope you will be very careful about exposing yourself to the cold and wet, take good care of yourself. I expected a letter from you by yesterday’s mail, but none came. I shall certainly have one next mail. Goodnight. I must go to the guard House and see how the guards are getting along—

 

                                                                                    Your Husband

                                                                                                Amos G. Collins.

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