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[1]

Did you put up any yarn for me to darn my socks. Please send me some – I can work button holes first rate. – think I could darn too – am beginning to need it.

Gloucester Point [Virginia]. Apr[il] 27th [18]62

My dear Nannie –

Yesterday I got yours of Apr[il] 21, - being the shortest time that I have gotten a letter since being home. There must be several of ours lost as I haven’t received a many as I think you have written – you ought to get them from me every week, as I generally am very reg- ular in writing, and take some pains to see that my letters are sent off. This week, I have heard, our steamers will commence running again; and then I hope we can hear from each other more regularly. This morning we had, as usual, our [?] inspection – then the Bible class – then at 11 1/2 o.c[lock] a little sermon, or rather a talk, in the Capt[ain]’s tent from Maj[or] [Wheelwright?] (a presiding Elder in the Meth- odist church & Maj[or] in Comp’s regiment) He spoke from Math[ew] V ch[apter] 6 V an excellent sermon. We have some very solemn meetings Two or three have lately made a profession of religion in some of the adjoining camps.

[Envelope]

Mrs. Nannie v. Watkins (Care Mr. Jos[eph] B. Daniel) Townesville, N[orth] C[arolina]

[Envelope Marginalia] Send by Sass[afras] Fork [North Carolina] mail [‘Send...mail’ underscored]

[2]

Sam[uel] Graham got a[struck-through] permission this morning to visit Yorktown. [Virginia] One of the first men he seen was Jones (Tom Barrington’s overseer) with his old blue blanket around his shoulders – Their Capt[ain] Baskerville, who come down last evening with his me, and was making arrangements to carry them out to their regiment, which is stationed about 1 1/2 miles from Yorktown – not too far for us to visit occasionally, if things keep quiet. I would have gone with Sam if it had been any other day – felt very sorry, after hearing this that I didn’t go. – would almost walk [20?] miles to see Jones or his blanket, it would look so much like Home. [Nat?] Gregory was sick in Peters- burg. [Virginia] Who thought when Baskerville & I posted a month ago that we would be so soon thrown together. Haven’t seen any one from our county since being here, except a member of the Boydton Cavalry who returned on the boat which brought me down – and no acquaintance except Andrew Venable (Cousin Henry’s son) who come down to join the Pr]ince] Edw[ar]d Cavalry. Have heard nothing from Bro[ther] Dick.

[3]

I feel as you do, precious, about our separation -the longer we are separated, the less recon- ciled do I become to it – there is no getting used to it. I often feel, that if it could be done, I would cheerfully sacrifice my right arm to be allowed to come back to you and our dear little ones. I try not to think of you so much, dear, - it sometimes makes me a coward, and yet the boys say I am more cheerful and take things more easily than any of our mess. I have missed no duty as yet (the only one in my mess who hasn’t) – try to do every thing required of me cheerfully & promptly & frequently think of, and read over, and thank you for your first letter to me, containing so much advice and encouragement – it is the only one of your letters which I carry constantly [underscored] in my pocket. Am glad to know that you have interested yourself in [Jos[eph] Nat’s & Mary Graham’s ?] studies – Charley is fully old enough to be taught if you could only get him interested, and this could easily be done. use pictures & drawings, and offer him rewards, -never get impatient with him, and never let him become fatigued. Make it an amusement for him,

[4]

I sometimes think that as you have no housekeeping you may become dyspeptic – hope you will take hold of things at your Ma’s as you did before our marriage – and if you cannot get enough exercise, have a small hoe, and cul- tivate a border of flowers in the garden – take some active, out-of-door exercise every day. Make this a matter of conscience. I want to see you fat and with roses in you face when I come home – don’t [nurse?] & worry yourself too much over Minnie. Keep always Employed and you will think less of our great trial. All this advice I give to pay you back for yours – and think it is nearly as good. If you will follow it as faithfully as I have tried to follow yours, I will be satisfied. Don’t mope, dont become dis- couraged, dont look on the dark side of any- thing – it is my daily prayer that you may be cheerful & happy, and submit [pati[e]ntly?] to every dispensation of Providence. How very many are much worse off than we are – how many men are in our army with their families, houses, and their all in the possession of the Enemy & and such an Enemy. How thankful we [underscored] should be.

[5]

(5) There still is no fighting, and no one knows when there will be a battle – all in conjecture about the movements of the Enemy. Some think that the fight will begin to-morrow or next day, but no one knows. It does seem to me that it must come off soon, and I am glad to see that our men are all confident. Gen[eral] [Joseph E.] Johnston commands the army, Gen[eral] [Daniel Harvey.] Hill the left wing, resting on York River, Gen[eral] [James] Longstreet the center, & Gen[eral] [John B.] Magruder the right wing resting on the James River. Our lines

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are said to be much ^ strongly fortified than at Manassas [Virginia] & Centreville [Virginia], the Army numbers from 80 to 100 thousand, well armed, with enough am[m]unition, a great many heavy cannon, and a great deal of artillery. I don’t know much about such things, but think it might be possible for a good number of iron-clad gun

                                  on the [York] River

boats to[o] – I was going to say whip us ^ - but dont like to say it. Dont think though the attack will be made unless they repulse us on the Peninsula. There will be some fighting here, I think, but not much, unless they whip us on land.

[6]

Monday morning Ap[ri]l 28th We have had a great deal of bad weather – a good deal of rain, and much damp, cloudy weather. Hope the spring has been brighter and warmer with you – I begin to think more now of my farm, & what they are doing at Home. I do not care for Mr. Harris to plant any more tobacco [threw?] the orchard – I wish that made very rich, and cultivated well. I would prefer for him not to check on, unless he thinks it will be much the best [underscored]. I wish him to apply the manure as much as possible on the surface, and to get a stand as early as possible af- ter the 15th May – don’t think he need plant any before then. I want particular attention paid to raising enough black-eye peas for seed – and the rice –beans which Bro[ther] Will gave me ought to be planted in a good rich spot and every one saved with great care for seed. I intend here- after to make this [part?] of my crop – We have them every day for dinner, and it is nearly half of my living. Ask Mr. Harris.

[7]

if it would not be well to burn some coal, the first spare [time?] to be used in curing or in drying Tobacco. – August is the time I burned. Tell him to cut down as many pines a possible, around the old grane yard, or in the clover lot field. Please put yourself to some trouble to an- swer all the questions, in one or two of my last letters, about the farm and all on it; and anything about Home or Home matters: even the flowers and fields will be interesting. Dont be afraid of telling me anything & everything, nobody sees your

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letters, and what ^ appear to you as of the least importance, and most commonplace will be deeply interesting to me –Especially if you write it. Always say something about Aunt Judy’s folks – you said nothing in your last, & Sam seemed a good deal disappointed. You have never said anything about your health or your Ma’s. Dont you think it would in- terest me to learn [a?] little in every letter a- bout this. Dont think you have mentioned your Pa, except incidentally in any letters. Does

[8]

Lou come on her studies at all. I hated so much to give Lou up, thought she was be- ginning to improve rapidly. You never tell me anything about your home folks & they never write any about themselves. Dont you think I love them, & think about them, and feel interested in them. You have much more around you to interest me than I have around me to interest you, and yet I write longer letters and oftener. I write, darling, because I cant help it anymore than eating & sleeping – because writing to you is next to being with & talking to you. I dont write to send news, I have none to send – I dont ask you to send news, I only ask you to write just what you would talk to me if you had me now by you. Dont think my letters will do for general circulation, but I leave that with you. I always write very hastily, and sometimes when I read over my letter, I dont know what I am reading there is so much noise & confusion around me. All the boys are weli – Daniel has been laid up with mumps but is now well & is staying in only because the weather is damp. May God bless you darling – Yours N[athaniel] V W[atkins]