Letter dated 12 March 1865, from Silas Doolittle, 75^th New York State Volunteer Infantry

 

                                                            Savannah, Ga.

                                                            March 12^th, 1865

 

Dear Mother,

            Your most welcome letter of Feb 27^th-28^th, reached me last night. It found me in good health and spirits, but was sorry to learn that Sarah was unwell. I trust it is nothing serious.

 

            Today, Dear Mother, is your birth day, and you are Sixty years old. I wish I could have been there as I was a year ago, or wish I had some present to send, but I can only give you what you always possessed, the love of your poor soldier son. It does not seem, Dear Mother, that you are growing old so fast, but I trust and pray that there are many happy years yet in store for you.

 

            I did not attend church to day, for I was on Orderly at Head Quarters. I did not have much to do but had to be there all the time. It is now about 8 P.M.

 

            I receive letters from Coleman and Alice every week or two. They were well when I last heard from them. Those postage stamps came through all right, and Just in time, for I was out.

 

            We expect to be paid before long & then I will send some money home. Now, Mother, dont work out in the snow, for I am afraid it will make you sick, but if any such thing wants doing, hire some boy to do it.

 

            Poor Uncle Coleman, I would give a good deal to see him. he must be very lonesome.

 

            The situation of the Country is cheering in every respect and I think that the summer campaign will finish up the war. Oh! I want to see those southern traitors humbled like dogs and then banished from the country as being too false to live among civilized people.

 

            We have got new Drums now and I think I am learning quite rapidly. I have got a little kitten too. one that a lady across the street gave me, but I noticed on going to bed last night he had been dampening my blanket, but I readily forgave him, altough I shant trust to his honesty in the future.

 

             I am going to write a letter to Sarah this week and will try and write home once or twice every week if I get time. The Town clock is just striking nine & I must close by bidding you good night.

 

                                                From Your Loving Son

                                                                        Silas Doolittle

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