Portsmouth V^a

Sept. 21^st 1863—

 

My dear Mother:

                        Your note enclosed in Sallies came to hand day before yesterday, and as you like a letter all to yourself, you shall have one. The great trouble is that you don't write often and there are very few people so wholly disinterested as to be willing to answer other people's letters. So if I should always write to you, I should get only one letter for four or five. However I will direct more letters to you in future, and see how it will work. I shall be glad to get the quilt & sheets, for the nights are getting terribly cold, and blankets are prickly. If this reaches you before the bundle goes, I wish you would put in my overcoat. You might mend any bullet holes there are in it, and it would answer me for this winter. It must have been some time ago that Frank was complaining that I didn't write often to him, For we are corresponding / quite briskly now, and Frank is—in love! A young lady who lives in New London, and whom he met aboard the Sabine has completely carried the young man's heart by storm. She is a very pretty girl, apparently well off, and from all I can learn fully reciprocates Frank's ardent passion. Success to him I say. I am glad he is laying up money, and being on ship board all the time can very easily see how he can do it. He would find it very different if he had to support himself, a horse and numerous friends in the army. $800 is worth more in the navy than $1420 in the army, and on the staff at that. Still I mean to lay by some of my pay, and shall begin next pay day, or sooner if I can get that $100 my compatriot borrowed. It had not occurred to me that your silver wedding was so near at hand. It is funny Father mentioned it in none of his letters. I should have enjoyed being home very much. At this late day, I give the aged (?) couple much joy, and may they invite me and all their children to the Golden Wedding—I'll have my wife with me on that occasion. You speak about my being stationary here all winter. In all probability we shall stay here. Somebody must, and why not we? It wouldnt do to abandon this section, you know, and there is not one more soldier here than is needed. /

 

I attended a military execution last week. You have seen an account of it in the papers. I was quite near the prisoner as he sat on the coffin, and received the penalty of his crimes. He was quite young, and as he tottered from the carriage seemed very near dead in anticipation. Seven shots were fired in volley, all of which entered his body, causing instant death. It was a very solemn sight, and affected me much more than the more appalling sights of the battle field. If we have any more executions, and several are under penalty of death for desertion and other crimes, I think I shall be a more distant spectator. Sallie says I haven't said anything about receiving her photograph. I received it, and and am ever so fond of it. I sent home some photographs. As Sallie very truly remarked, "it would be civil to acknowledge the receipt"—I shall answer Sallie's letter in a few days. Ask her to read this and try and wait till I get rested from this effort, then I will direct to her address. With much love to Father, Sallie, Theodore & yourself, I am

 

Very truly y'r aff son

 Charlie—

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