I rec'd your letter day before yesterday—We have had some stormy weather here too, but nothing so bad as you must have had—I wrote to Hannah last Saturday—I was down to the Hospital last Sunday, & also yesterday—there is a soldier there very bad with bleeding at the lungs—it is doubtful if he recovers—he is from Harper's Ferry, W. Va.—He is not willing to have me write to his folks, nor will he write himself—his mother is feeble, & he says it would hurt her—he is an only son—he is in the 44th Reg. Infantry—He likes to have me come & sit a while with him—so I go—I do not allow him to talk much, as it is best for him to keep very quiet. He is quite a southerner, although in our army—& takes great interest in politics—his name is Andrew J. Kephart1—Mother, I tell you all the particulars, as I know you will be interested tho' a perfect stranger. There are all kinds of soldiers in the hospitals, some good & some the other thing. But there are always some that appreciate deeply any kindness & friendship—& it helps them along too, more than one would think.
Mother, I suppose you got your almanacks—both are calculated for this region, not New York, & one is a sort of Catholic almanac—I saw it had all the Saints' days.
O'Connor, & the wife too, were both very much taken with Jeff, & speak about him often.
Surratt is here in jail—his sister Anna goes to see him most every day—poor girl.2
It is pleasant here this forenoon—as I look out of my window, the river looks fine—there is a slight haze in the air but the warm sun is shining—O'Connor has just been in to see me a few moments—they have invited me up there to dinner, but I believe I don't care to go to-day.3
I was up at the Capitol last night, to see the House in session, & walk around—there was nothing very interesting—they were debating some appropriation Bill.
Mother dear, I hope this will find you all right, & free from rheumatism—Love to George & Mat & all—
Walt.