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Rome, December 16th 1862

Tuesday night

My Darling Mother,

I received your welcome letter, just

the day I sent my letter to Father to the office, so

deferred writing for some days. I am now waiting

with great anxiety to hear something of the battle

of Fredericksburg; our Monday's mail brought no-

thing but the Petersburg paper, which contained only

Gen Lee's report - that we had gained a great victory

though at the expense of many brave men, oh I

do so dread to hear who, every battle takes some of our

relations or friends. Do write me what you hear.

I should think Mrs. Wallace and Mrs. Gordon would

have been too near the fight to to remark, and from

little Sallie Randolph what a time they must have

had. Mr. Tucker has not yet returned from the south

nor has Mrs. Tucker heard from him since he left.

though it has been four weeks yesterday, I wish he

could come. I [wish?] him in many ways, Maria

has been very hard to manage ever since he left.

Christmas is coming, it will be a sad time with us

all this year but I am glad I shall have a little

rest. Mrs. Tucker has invited Sister and Nina to

cover over and spend it with me. I do hope they

will come, for I want to see them so much, but

I can not promise them any pleasure but that of

my society, for there is no one for them to see but Mr.

Ned Chambliss. he spent the night here last night, but

did not come until after tea, and I had gone to bed

with a violent headache, so Willie entertained him

by telling him, he knew just what he was coming

for, to court Miss Hattie, and he need not now, for

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Miss Hattie says you is the biggest goose she ever did see.

Has my dear father decided yet what to do. I was

very much afraid the yankees would drive you

away from Louisa. I think you all will have plenty

of work for some time to come if you attempt to knit

50 lbs of wool. I am still knitting caps, and on my

seventh and am to begin one tomorrow for Mrs. Baird

to send to a friend who was very kind to her son in his

last sickness. I gave our last [?] to a delicate looking

little North Carolinian who staid here all night. I

don't know his name, a party of seven who were out

hunting deserters (they had two with them) staid here.

Mrs. T. is very busy dying cotton.