June 16th, 1862.
Yesterday we sent letters to the Court-House to be mailed, presuming, as we had not seen an enemy for twenty-four hours, that the coast would be clear for awhile; but Bartlett rode into a detachment of them in Taliaferro's Lane. The poor old man, in his anxiety to save his letters, betrayed himself by putting his hand on his pocket. They were, of course, taken from him. [The letters I mentioned as having been published in the New York papers.] They are heartily welcome to mine; I hope the perusal may do them good, but C. is annoyed. It was the first letter she had written to her husband since the depredations at W., and she had expressed herself very freely.
This text is part of:
Table of Contents:
Scanned printed text.
This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 United States License.
An XML version of this text is available for download, with the additional restriction that you offer Perseus any modifications you make. Perseus provides credit for all accepted changes, storing new additions in a versioning system.