De Croe's Point, Matta Gorda Peninsula,

Texas, Feb. 3d 1864.

 

My Dear Wife,

                                                                                                            I recd No. 1 on the next day after mailing my last.

 

            At the time you speak of haveing such uncommonly cold weather in Iowa we were haveing a correspondingly cold time of it here. It was about that time that we had the severe northerner that blew so many fish out of the Bay and Gulf.

 

            Refering to this fish story reminds me of a wagish, though in the main truthful remark I heard a soldier make the other day. He said "the only difference he could see between the 'world of chance' and this country was, that in the former every thing was just as it happened to be, while in the latter every thing was sure to be wrong end foremost, for," he continued, "the sun rises in the west, sets in the east (or seems to); we dig our wood out of the sand; get our water on top of the sand and catch fish out on dry land.

 

            It is reported that the rebel Gen. / Magruder is mustering a large force in the center of the State for the purpose of giveing us a drubbing (?). I don't know whether there is any foundation for the report or not, but I don't hardly believe that there is any such good luck for us as to get to shoot at Rebs from behind parapets twenty feet thick mounted with Columbiads.

 

            The chaplains of several different regiments here are holding a protracted meeting in camp on the regular old Methodist style in every respect except the absence of the female and baby voices in the singing and shouting. They have had meeting every night for the last two weeks attended by very large audiences and by the means generally adopted by Methodist preachers (I mean scareing folks) they are getting quite a number of joiners. The preachers are all very eloquent upon that part of their discourse which refers to our probable advance upon Galveston or Magruder's possible advance upon us and the consequent necessity of us giveing some attention to our latter ends.

 

            Yesterday was baptizing day. I / don't know how many were dipped into Matta Gorda Bay, but I should think the number would make a pretty good sized Co. at least. Cooney says that the salt water will save them better than fresh water and that they will not likely need baptizeing again for six months.

 

            Your verses are very suggestive as well as sentimental and,

 

My loveing wife and little child,

            I often think and wonder too,

How happy I would be, if I

            These evenings long, could spend with you.

 

Imaginations of the day

            Form all my happy dreams of night

I see the lamp upon the stand,

            I see the genial fire so bright.

 

I see the loved and happy faces

            Of friends all seated round the stand—

I wake to find that still I'm on

            This sandy coast of rebel land.

 

I hope the time will soon arrive,

            When I can quit this world ideal,

And join the paradise of home

            And dream my dreams of things more real. /

 

Dearest, it is hard to hope against hope; but despair is ruinous; So, to use your own language—"let us hope for a better day comeing".

 

                                                                                    Your affectionate husband,

                                                                                                            Enos Reed.

 

            My little Daughter,

                                                                                                            Inclosed with Ma's letter I also find one dictated by you.

 

            Your fears about the safety of your little lambs were certainly well founded, for your Ma writes that one of them have frozen to death: but the disaster can not be helped now and I would not trouble myself any about it; I would just make up with Lou and Grandma's Billy and think no more about kitty and the little lambs.

 

            It has been nearly eight months since Pa last saw you. Then you could not step arround and eat roasted potatoes as you do now.

 

            I know that eight months make a great difference on such little folks as you, but still Pa can hardly imagine you any thing but a little baby lying in the cradle beging Ma to take you up.

 

            Nothing more at present from

                                                                                                Your affectionate Pa. /

 

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P.S. I will commence numbering my letters again and like you will try and not make any more mistakes,

                        E.R.

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