Lancaster, October 18, 1864.

 

Dear, respected friend!

            "Better late than never"—so I thought, when the idea of getting married, at length, crept into my old weather-beaten head (but no copper-head—God forbid!), tempest-worn by the strokes of fate. "Better late than never," my conscience reproves me now, whilst I proceed at last, to the task of answering your kind letters, being well aware of the sin of having, by an almost inexcusable negligence, procrastinated a duty, which I owe to the friendship you have shown unto me and honored me withal, for so long a period of time. Well, Sir, although I could adduce some reasons and excuses, by which I might, partially, at least, exonerate me from my guilt, yet I will without wasting time any longer, at once plead guilty, and, acting the part of the prodigal son and penitent sinner, implore your pardon and forgiveness. In order that I may the better succeed in obtaining the same, I take the liberty of sending you the daguereotype or photographic likeness of myself and my yet surviving family, under the hope, that this freedom may not displease but rather be acceptable to you, and with the humble and hearty request,—provided that it would cause no inconvenience whatever to / you,—that you may be so kind as to favor me with your own photographic likeness, as well as that of your family, and by so doing, show that you have pardoned and forgiven me.

 

            On the 5^th inst., we had a great day here in Lancaster. There was a great grand mass-meeting of the Republican party of the county and city of Lancaster, a grand affair, indeed, the like of which I never have seen before—an immense turning out and rallying round the flag of the "Old Guard", which, I presume, the copperheads did not like very much, but which I consider as the harbinger of the great victory and triumph which the Union men will achieve on the 8^th of November next. There was such an immense crowd of people, horses, horsemen, carriages, wagons, etc., in the city that a procession could be formed only partially. Old people say that it was the greatest demonstration of that kind they could remember—exceeding in numbers of people even that of 1840. There were, whilst the procession was going on, in some vehicles to be seen men who thrashed wheat or rye, others that cut wood or split rails, in spite of the miserable copperheads. But the most imposing and most interesting feature of the / whole affair, I dare say, were two delegations, each of which brought along with them a vast wagon or vehicle, (escorted by the male youth of the county on horseback) ornamented with evergreens and little flags, drawn by thirty-two horses, and containing the flower, the beauty and fashion of the county, in the shape of the most beautiful and most lovely young girls, (had I still been a [paper fold] I would have tried to catch one of them and get her for a wife,) all dressed in white, with ribands or rather scarfs of blue silk thrown around their bodies, and wreaths of evergreen on their heads, each one of them holding and waiving a little flag in their hands. The tops of the wagons, also, were decorated with evergreens, or small trees, and flags. Nay, even the horses had, each one, a little flag on their heads. There were, perhaps, from fifty to sixty girls sitting in one wagon. Forsooth, it was a wonderfully beautiful, I might almost say, a sublime and fascinating sight!—But, what pleased me most of all, and was calculated to excite me to laughter, was a representation, on a transparent or banner, of a copperhead with a human head—that is to say in plain German, eine Kiepfershlange mit einem Men- / schenkopf—bearing the inscription: "The Chicago Platform", and near its mouth, you could read the words: "In November I shall bite no more! Another transparent had the inscription: "Little Mack must clear the track".

 

            I hope we will have a glorious time in November; yes Sir, I trust that the Lord of hosts will grant victory to the just cause, so that this infernal rebellion of the slave-drivers will be crushed at last, and slavery—that hideous abomination, the shame and the curse of this country,—will perish together with it, and peace be restored on a sure foundation.

 

            It was my intention to write more in detail about politics, but I must put it off for some future time, as I have on hand, just now, a good many letters from my European friends, waiting for an answer, and so very little time to do so. You will, therefore, excuse me for this time, and forgive my long silence. If I was master of my time, I would have written long since, and write oftener, too.

 

            Please to present my best respects to Mrs. Albright, as well as to the other members of your family. I remain, dear Sir, very respectfully

 

Your old friend,

Charles Kretschmar.

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