I have not heard from you for some time, Lewy Brown has received two letters from you, & Walter2 in Ward E has received one three weeks ago. I wrote you a letter about a week ago, which I hope you have received. I was sorry you did not come up to my room to get the shirt & other things you promised to accept from me and take when you went away. I got them all ready, a good strong blue shirt, a pair of drawers & socks, and it would have been a satisfaction to me if you had accepted them. I should have often thought now Tom may be wearing around his body something from me, & that it might contribute to your comfort, down there in camp on picket, or sleeping in your tent.
Lewy Brown and Hiram are about the same. I saw Lewy & sat with him last evening. I go to see him almost every evening. He sets up a little in the chair, during the middle of the day—his foot is doing pretty well. There is quite a time at Armory about Dr. Bliss3—some say he is under arrest for defrauding the government. There is a new surgeon in charge—I have not seen him. In Ward K there is a new surgeon, Dr. Rose.4 There is quite a change, with men & doctors, going and coming.
Well, Tom, how did you stand the gay old rain storm of Thursday & Friday last?5 It rained here enough to wet hell itself, and swamp the fires. But yesterday & to-day here have been fine. The talk here previously was all about Hooker's advance—we expected a big fight, on the jump—but of course the storm has laid an injunction on that for some days.
Yet I suppose Hooker must move soon, & that there will be fighting and lots of marches and skirmishes, &c before the summer is through. O my dear comrade & brother, I hope it will prove your good luck to come safe through all the engagements & marches of this war, & that we shall meet again, not to part. I hope this letter will find you in good health & spirits.
Tom, I will not write a long yarn at present. I guess I have not made out much of a letter, anyhow at present, but I will let it go, whatever it is, hoping it may please you, coming from old wooly-neck, who loves you. You must let that make up for all deficiencies now and to come. Not a day passes, nor a night but I think of you. Now, my dearest comrade, I will bid you so long, & hope God will put it in your heart to bear toward me a little at least of the feeling I have about you. If it is only a quarter as much I shall be satisfied.
Your faithful friend & brother,
WaltTom, it is now about 9 o'clock, a fine moonlight night. I am going to close this up, and then scud out for a walk to the post office. Good by again, & God bless you, dear brother.
Endorsed (in unknown hand): "26 April 1863."
Draft letter.
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