Transcription

                         Mar. 24th 1865.

Dear Richard

       ("I take my pen in hand to write you a

few lines I am all well at present and hope this

will find you enjoying the same blessing") the wind

has [blown?] all this week hard enough to take ones

head off. I expect you look gay in your "Suit

of blue" How are you sagacity and caution yours

has wildly led you to be the [dupe?] of the first knave that

would take you by the hand and speak a honeyd word to you

and to wait even to the bitter end all the pleadings of one who had

only your best good at heart.    I am very very glad you

have a pleasant place.    I should be glad to heer about

the hospital how may sick there are and how they are

cared for! poor fellows I pity them it is no light

matter to be sick far away from friends and no one but

strangers to minister to them, ty and take good care of

yourself, if there is smallpox in camp be careful not to

get it yourself.   One year ago to day was moundy

thursday I was very sick all day  cant remember that

I had ay breakfast Friday morng I did though for

I went down stairs got some wood

built a fire and got it myself, but I hadn't any

contraband to wait on me ("or any other man")

Richard I cant write any more to night I am

tired, hurt, sick and I had almost said life very but

that I do not mean   I can not control my thoughts

nur my fear sometimes I can put [away?] or keep down

these [bitter?] recollections but to night they [rush?]

upon me like aflood, and that I would say I say not

   and that I would not that I say

                               Good night

                                    Celia [?]