New Berne N^o Carolina

Nov 2^nd 1864

 

My dear Sogg—

                        Behold this formidable sheet, and know that I propose to "lay you out" with a regular sledge-hammer letter. It will resemble that instrument in the rigor of its style, in its length, breadth, & thickness, and in the decisive manner in which it will nail your cruel insinuations of indolence on my part. "Yourn" of the 15^th ult was dropped like a fresh-laid egg at my door this A.M. Also one from P. Royal. Also one from the Dr. my friend and father. Also one from Sallie—my pet and sister. Also two from Nettie—the idol of me heart, and the hope of life—the life of my hope, and the heart of me idle! As I began to say—your letter came. And it pleased me by its humor, surprised me by its length, and shocked me by its attempts to stigmatize me (I think I said stigmatize me?) with habitual laziness and studied ennui. I pause in the very midst of my duties of Asst Adjt Genl. Aid-de-Camp, Street Inspector, Provost Marshal / Medical Director, Chief of Ambulance Corps and Ordnance Officer, to inform you that I have about as much to do as I can attend to, and that in this statement you must find an excuse for my long silence towards you—or go without one. There! All that is merely prefatory to what I meant to say at the start, and should have said had not a fellow been looking over my shoulder in whose eyes I wish to appear as a truthful man—viz—that you are a good fellow and deserve to be treated better than you have been lately by me in the matter of correspondence. (that sentence is eight lines long by actual count and measurement.) We must do better—both of us, and I promise to do my part towards an epistolary reformation. Another complaint in y'r letter is in regard to my old correspondent Butler. You will remember that I told you and a few others in June '63 that I had profered to Miss B. an engagement for the purposes of correspondence. You very well know why I made that proposition. Before her consent had been three days old I wrote her a caution not to construe our arrangement into anything more serious than was intended, and from that date we continued corresponding several months, without a single mention of any engagement, and / without a single love-passage between us. Matters began to get more serious in the vicinity of Bridgeport, and I hauled off entirely from Butler. When my engagement came out, Butler took to herself the weeds of martyrdom and stated that I had broken an engagement with her. The story got to me through Frank from his Gracie. When I was home last June I asked Gracie about it, and she said Butler had repeatedly told her I was engaged to her, and that she had no doubt that she (Butler) was sincere in her belief. As soon as I got back, I wrote to B. asking for an explanation. She answered that the very idea of an engagement between us was an absurdity, that she had never thought there was one, and never had said there was, and that she had told Gracie Turner what I had written, and she said what I had intimated "was as false as it could be". She dared me to name a person to whom she had made such a report, and I very promptly gave her Miss Turner's name, as I had permission to do. That letter remains unanswered. I had informed Arms of the goings on, who posted Gracie, and I have had two or three letters from her. She has had interviews with Butler who has at last confessed that she deceived Gracie. The matter rests here. Ere it will. I shall not be sued for a breach of promise / you may bet high on that. It has been a very mixed case, and I have been a good deal troubled, but I have come out clear as a bell, and nailed a big, systematic lie to the counter. So much for so much. We don't quite get rid of the fever yet, but the cases are getting fewer. I tell you we have had a lively whirl. I dare not say how many have died, but it will take a figure above 900 to express it—and New Berne isn't a very large place either. Wilmington is about to have a visit from D.R. Porter with 120 vessels and Gen Weitzel with 10-15000 troops—Look out for music. Lieut Cushing of the navy sailed up to Plymouth a few days ago in a ship's launch, with an engine in her, and a torpedo rigged out in front, and blew up and sunk the Ram Albemarle. A very daring, gallant & useful operation. Are you going home for Thanksgiving? I meant to, but Lt Pratt of our staff is convalescing from the fever and wants to go. It's his turn, and I am dumb. If your old Tank (as Frank calls her) ever comes in to Beaufort N.C. to coal, run up on the R.R. and beat me at billiards. What an idea! I suppose I do play a remarkably superior game. Write a line To Ever thine

                                    Amus.

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