March ^the 22 day 1863

 

deer Sun i take my pen in my hand to let you i am not well yet but i hope when these lines come to hand tha will find you well I am at pollys Sally is hear too she has bin sick and see has all winter ben sick and like to dye i think shee is a little better now at this time Shee had the ague the lung feever then the dispepsy i am hear and not able to worke enney at all onley nock round about the last acount that i ha of fanses hee was at ivens vill indiana in thee hospitle wee have hard times heare now and expect to have harder tim then ever unles times alters hear thears acompleet spit heare now and if there is not a stop put to it wee will all bee ruende hear John you rote my sentimets when you rote to mee inn your letter to mee pollys fameley is all well attis tim Shee wants to bee rememberd to you and amy too and if ritte ann was hear i wood spend my time with them when ever tha wold come hear i ant able to come thare to stay with theme i dont no how to die o i want you to try to meet wheare parting will bee nore forever watch as well as pray so watch and pry

 

John i want to meet you in heaven with your old mother theare to dwell fore evr more and theare well never part a gane this world is a troblesom world but i hant got to stay hear all ways no no i must com to a close for this time hoping that will not think hard of mee for not riting more

 

[paper cut off, reads Jacob Sanders to John W Sanders…] /

 

[verso]

 

this is Fathers

last letter that he

ever wrote to me

 

this is Fathers

last letter that

he ever wrote to me

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