just gone from here;—he came down from the front, and reports all quiet there to-day. I begin to feel anxious to have a letter, it seems so long since I heard from those dear ones—why do they wait thus? If they knew at home how eager our homesick hearts were for the little messengers of love and friendship fluttering down to us on thin white wings, recording every item of change in and about the one dear spot, they would not count it lost,—the time spent in giving them to us poor waifs, thrown out into the country of a hostile people.
The sunshine forgot to open its eyes this morning, and the cold wind moaned for it, and I sit shivering over my fire scarcely able to keep myself warm, and the stove-pipe in position. Well, the time comes to all of us when we are sick of soldiering, and wish we were out of the service, then, ashamed of the seemingly coward thought, they grow eager to rush into the fray, and wipe out the stain of seeming dishonor.
Many rumors are floating about, but no reports on which we can rely—still Hope holds aloft her streaming banner, and our hearts throb in unison with the great swell of her soul-stirring music. Will peace come? God grant it may come soon.
Some are very ill to-day, with typhoid fever and diphtheria. I have just come in from the tents, and find them doing as well as can be expected. They
