February 3rd, 1863

Mt. Carmel, Tuesday eve, Feb 3rd/63

My dear Husband,

I thought I would write some tonight, but think likely I shan’t mail it tomorrow. I feel rather stale, although my cold is I hope some better, my throat is better than it was last night, I have taken Cayenne Pepper in the way I told you of in my last letter, and think it has helped me.

I don’t think baby is any better of her cold, her throat looks quite sore today. I am very sorry she should have got such a cold when cutting teeth, I have no idea how she took it, but I hope she will get through it without being sick, I was trying to amuse her just at night, I told her if her Papa was home, he would play with her, and then she began to tease to have you come, she would reach out both hands towards the door, and say “Come tome, Papa, and jump poor Lulu baby1, and make you baby touse” (house). I bought her a box of blocks with the alphabet on a while ago (the first money I ever spent for her play things). She piles them up, and calls it “making a touse”. How much comfort she would take having a frolic with you you, I often think when it comes towards night and she gets tired and fretful, how much it would quiet her if I could tell her that her Papa would come pretty soon.

Aunt Sarah was in here today, said she had a letter which Ezra Day had written to Sherwood and Sherwood had sent it out to her from New Haven. She got it in the yesterday’s mail, and I got yours of the 27th. Her’s was written the 29th and got here as soon as mine, he wrote that you had a snow storm the same time that we did here, and that you had there 8 inches of snow, and no tents; you poor souls, I should think you must suffer, it seems to me almost a miracle that you any of you live.

It is very cold here tonight has been growing cold very fast since last night, there was every appearance of a snow storm this morning, but it has come off tonight clear and cold, when I was out to the barn tonight seeing to things, I thought it was very cold there, and I thought that my dear husband hadn’t even as comfortable place as that to stay in and the thought made me shudder, and as I set here by a good fire and hear the cold wind whistle outside I can assure you that it detracts very much from my comforts, to think that you may be suffering from the cold, and if not actually suffering, to know that you are not comfortable. Oh how I wish I had the talismanic power to convey you to some easy, comfortable place this cold night.

It was quite a comfort to me to hear that you had got another woolen blanket2 and that you had got a little money, but it is a shame that the soldiers wasn’t paid up. It won’t make too much difference with you and I, as with many others, I suppose there are a great many that have been out of money so long, they they have contracted debts, and their families at home are almost destitute and the scant payment, (if they pay their debts) won’t leave them anything to send home to their families.

We need to be prudent, but thank God are not destitute of anything to make us comfortable, I don’t think you had better send me any of your money for fear you may want it yourself, and I guess I will get along well enough [with] that 10 dollars when Uncle Orrin pays it, will pay what we owe to Dea Eliha, and Boss Ed, and for the watch which is in New Haven yet3, and if I can’t pay Mr. Horn just yet he won’t care, you know he is made of money, and you know I told you I had the money laid by to pay Mrs. Dolittle. I mean to contrive some way to get over there and pay her in the course of a few days.

The payment to your family from the state4 is due the first of this month, perhaps it will come soon, and [if] we sell a little milk, and a few eggs. (The hens don’t lay worth a straw) but every little helps, so don’t worry about sending me any money I shall do well enough, if we are not sick and if we are, I suppose we shall be cared for some way: I don’t want you to be out of money I think you have trouble enough without that, I don’t earn anything worth speaking of at dressmaking, I don’t have any chance to; I suppose it is too hard times for folks to have dresses. It would be hard telling what I do do, but I am busy most of the time.

There is a lecture up to the church tonight, on music, I forget what the lecturer’s name is, I thought I knew enough about music and wouldn’t go.

The age of wonders hasn’t gone by yet, something has transpired in Mt. Carmel worthy of note, Mary Dickerman5 (John’s Mary) had a large party last night, a birth day party, had ice cream confectionary &c ordered from New Haven. I believe she has concluded to step down from the lofty pinnacle on which she has been seated, and stop on this earth a while, someone said that Augusta Carpenter said that she should think “she, Mary, had been up in Heaven long enough and would like to come down and see the folks a while”, of course I wasn’t invited as I have no bean, but our Fanny had the honor of dragging over Mr. Elford and his sister Maggie and I guess some other “gal”.

Mary has been over to Boss Ed’s and told them that she had made up her mind that she had been in the wrong, when she thought she was doing right, and that she was going to associate with people now, &c. They think she is about right now, I hear that she is very social with the young men now, one extreme sometimes follows another. I hope it won’t be so in her care. Mr. Thorn, Mary, and Susy were invited but didn’t go, I just heard last night that Fred Jacobs worked up here at Ives, and had for sometime, he was invited but didn’t attend.

I feel pretty tired and must bid you good night wishing oh how much that you might have as good a place to sleep as I have, a spirits kiss and then good night.

  1. “Lulu” was Louise’s name for herself. 

  2. On the last march, Cecil had lost his wool blanket, much to the chagrin of Caroline. 

  3. Cecil had sent a broken watch back to Caroline to have it repaired. Read more

  4. Connecticut paid the soldiers $20 per month, on top of their pay from the Federal Government, $10 of which was paid directly to the soldiers family. 

  5. Mary Elizabeth Dickerman