New Orleans, La. July 6th, 1862
Sunday Morninq 8 o'clock a.m.
My Dear Wife,
Good morn and what do you think it is? I had, yesterday, 6 letters by the Steamer "Roanoak". I received them about 5 o'clock and it took me until 8 to read them. 4 of them were from you, one from Oc and one from Father Lord. I never was so glad of anythinq in my whole (except once, and that's when we were married) life. Those letters of yous, I read them over and over and have been reading them this morning How much better I feel since I received them. That long letter of yours, it was the best letter I ever had in my life. I could realize the good time I had a reading it. I re-ceived them just in time for breakfast. Had been bothering me all day and I was getting cross, but soon forgot my troubles and am now a happy man. Now I will stop a few minutes. Capt. Trundle called and wants me to go and take a bath with him. Just what I want to do. Goodbye until I return.
It is 11 o'clock. We went to find a Bath Room and looked through personal streets. Finally found one. I had a nice bath and now feel better. Oh, I wish it had been at home, don't you? I now take 3 baths a week. We have to in this climate in order to keep clean. I wrote Oc a letter this morning in answer to his. I had a good lauqhinq scrape over that letter. Wm. Tooker was here when I wrote it. He told me some things to write. Bill is home sick. He wants to leave the Army. He thinks he should like the Navy better.
I will first try to notice some of the most important points in your letters about coming home. I received one from Father on the same subject. I will come home as soon as possible. I will leave before the 1st of Au-gust as I cannot stay longer. I am sorry you worry so much about me. You must not, although I know how it is. I feel so myself often. I worry about you, and I sometimes think I will leave anyway, but it is not fair to finish in that style. Oh dear, I can't write more now. I feel so I will take a nap and see if I cannot feel better about coming home again.
This eve I write you. I am feeling better this eve when I set down and forgot everything else but yourself and home. It made me sick. I was heartsick and homesick. I am trying to feel better now and will endeavor to face it a while longer, but not but a little while. Dear wife, you think that I am very hard. I suppose by your writing my thinking that you had forgotten me. Now Lizzie, I did not mean any harm. I did not know. I think what I was writing, it was not any intention of mine to mar your feelings in any way. I beg your pardon and acknowledging that I done very wrong in writing what I did. I presume at the time I wrote that I was feeling bad and as I have felt since alone and amongst strangers. A thousand times I sorry to forget myself. I think at times that I have not a friend in the world, but then I think of home and a dear wife and then those wicked (There seems to be no more to this letter.)
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February 16, 2001
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