It being sometime since I wrote to you last, and this evening presenting a favorable opportunity, I thought I could pleasantly pass a few moments in that exercise. Our army is yet around Suffolk lying in their entrenchments, entirely still with the exception of what picket duty is performed. We occasionally receive some reinforcements, which has swelled our forces to 20 or 25,000 men. I believe there has been some firing every day but one since we came to this place, the principle firing having been done with cannon. It’s impossible for me to tell you what will be the issue of our coming here—whether they will fight or not.

We have lost several men in the picket engagements, or more properly, skirmishing. We also lost a fine battery consisting of six guns, with 200 men and 90 horses. These were captured by the Yankees. There seems to exist a considerable degree of dissatisfaction amongst our troops at this place, as the country is so marshy, level, etc. and I think they may assign pure homesickness and contempt for war as being their real cause for dissatisfaction. I was down at the line yesterday, and the boys told me that there had been about 150 cases of desertion from Kemper’s Brigade to the Yankees since they came to this place. There have also been a good many from our brigade gone to the Yankees or somewhere else. I never saw so general a dissatisfaction with men before. I heard numbers of them say they would give all they possessed in this world, save their life, to get out of the army.

As for myself I am better satisfied than awhile. My fare is better, my duty some easier, and we are now in a section of country in which there are people living. Our hospital is at a citizen’s house about five and a half or six miles south of Suffolk and some three or two and a half miles from our line of encampment. I am boarding with the man and get tolerable good fare. I get bread, wheat, or corn, meat, milk or coffee, sometimes eggs, etc. Oh, I am faring sumptuously to what I did while back.

The weather continues cool here yet, with a good deal of rain, though today is quite warm and I think will rain tomorrow. The most of our boys are well. Henry Mitchell and J. B. Mitchell have been quite sick, though Jimmy is better, and I have not heard from Henry today, he still remaining in camp. Jesse T. Hurst and brothers are well.

Well, what are you all doing on Pine Creek this bright eve? I can see you all moving around, each one engaged with perfect content in his or her daily avocation. You, Steve, in the shop making the anvil ring, beating on someone’s old plow or axe with your ponderous hammer wielded by your athletic and stalwart arm. Now you poke it back in the fire to heat it hotter whilst your assistant is pulling, pulling on the old bellows which you used to be my terror of wet days. [paper stain] have it heated and subject it again to the hammering to [paper stain] your notion. And your wife is busy arranging and planting out the garden, whilst those little Smiths are engaging themselves with toy plows, cornstalk fiddles or something [paper stain]. Don’t get mad at my foolishness, but with that creature called the imagination, we can fly with the velocity of lightening to our home, to the place rendered so dear and sacred to us by the many blessed pleasant scenes which we have enjoyed with the dearest of earthly friends.

I often visit our Pine Creek home and the old homestead too, by the fancy of imagination and think, and think, and ponder over the many pleasant and happy hours that I have spent in youthful folly and innocence, when not disturbed by the rumor and dread of war. How little we thought then of the responsibilities and troubles of manhood. How happy is youth when compared with riper years. But we must not yeald our mature years to sorrow. There is joy and happiness for manhood, but not to be found in the things and employments of this world. Then let us raise our thoughts to that being who is the source of all true happiness, and from whom proceedeth every good and perfect gift, and in whose service there is exquisite delight. If we live in the service of God we need fear no evil, for we need not fear them who when they have killed the body can do nothing more, but fear God who is both able to destroy both soul and body.

Write soon and don’t wait for me to write. I have so many to write to. Write to me once or twice a week, and then I will answer just as often as possible. Tell Miss S. B. Lindsey I will give his letter a hearty response soon. My love to yourself and family, also to Uncle Stephen and Aunt Kittie.