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Chaffin’s Bluff Batteries Jan[uar]y 19th, 1863

My dear Nannie: -

Yesterday I got a long letter from you, enclosing one from Mildred; and I am now on my upper shelf again, answering yours, after hesitating for some time whether to write to you or Mildred. As I always write three let- ters to your two, if the girls will write to me as I ask, I will be compelled to write one of the three every week in answer to theirs. What do you think of it? Or I will simply answer yours always, & theirs whenever I can. The boys seem to think I “love” you a good deal, anyway, by writing so often, - though I cant think so – & if I could, I dont know that I would try to stop. The weather continues very bad, close rainy so that we can do nothing. It is my day (Thursday) to be on guard, but as some of the men are on duty who hav’n’t been for sev- eral weeks, I will not come on until to-morrow. I almost feel sorry for this, as there is nothing I can do but be confined closely in our room with a noisy set of boys. Oh, how much I could en- joy such a day at Home! How much I should enjoy any [underscored] day at Home. I am glad you are beginning to get my letters, though four together were too much – no, not too much, for if I judge you by myself, one every day would be too few. I wish it was so that you could send off your letter oftener – there is so much more at Home to interest me, than there is here to in- terest you. – at Home, besides you, there are the children, & the Home folks at your Pa’s, and all the little things daily transpiring at the two places, and in the neighborhood – while here there is nothing but me. I dont know that it is so, (for after writing I frequently dont know what I have written, so great is the confusion around) but I frequently think that all of my letters are but the same old tale, oft repeated. But you [underscored], Darling, do [underscored] prize them, & love to get them always. It is very pleasant to be written about, as you freque[n]tly write about me; and the very reason you give, “you love me so dearly you cant see my faults,” makes it still more pleasant. Though when read- ing of myself as “the best,” “standard,” ‘model” [etc.?] I cant help feeling a great many [compunctions?] that I fall so far below all this, and fail so much of being what your love & partiality think and call me. But if my love for you [‘my...you’ underscored] entitles me to all this, I know I am not wholly undeserving

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and I feel, while reading all this, that it is but reflecting back my feelings towards you. I dont know that we ought [underscored] to love each other, so as not to see one another’s faults; but I do know that I do a great many things [‘great...things’ underscored] which I should not;

                                                    of the things, not faults, 

and if you really have faults, this in one [‘this is one’ underscored] ^ for I dont know them. While writing all this, Precious, my mind has been frequently diverted, by an argument, between Abe Daniel & Tom [Tamy?] about the sin of idolizing those whom we love. They, both, have many queer ideas about many things, & you would have been highly amused, as I was, by the conversation. I didn’t listen for their conclusions, but I frequently think & fear, that I place all [underscored] of my happiness too much on you and your love. You speak of my letters as better than they used to be because I tell you of- tener than ever how much I love you – I do this Darling, because I really do think of you more & love you better than I ever did. I thought that our long separation had taught me this; but I never fully realized how much I do love you, before I saw you sick, and felt how quickly I might lose you by any little [impru?] – [?][struck-through] dence or excitement. But I have written too much of this – of course, it is only for your eyes, because you only will appreciate it: - though I have no doubt Sister Martha would be highly amused at it. I am sorry she has stopped writing because you have commenced – tell her I enjoyed her letters very much, & think this a very poor reason for stopping, - though I acknowledge another reason & a better one, - the poor pay she got in mine. To add to the dreamy love lives of the day, the mail has come with no letter for me, & no papers for the mess. Though with it came ru- mors that Gen[era]l G. W. [Gustavus Woodson] Smith has resigned & his resignation has been accepted; that [General] A. P. [Ambrose Powell] Hill has also resigned; & the [General George] Pickett’s Division is in R[ich]mond on its way to Charleston S[outh] C[arolina]. The first & last rumors are good authority. It seems that [General Joseph] Hooker, or, as the Examiner calls him, the pug- nacious Doodle bug, has changed his base; & the war is about to be transferred farther south.

                 of peace

I hope the many signs ^ which we frequently think we see, may not all be illusions; but that the spring, or, at farthest, the summer may see the winding up of this inhuman war. Though I acknowledge the rumors about the wide-spread disaffection at the North-west, are beginning to be as stale and meaningless, as the frequent

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reports about recognition & intervention; yet they do mean something, [underscored] &, if this disaffection does not really exist, the mere talking & writ- ing about it so much will have an effect at the North, & may have the tendency to bring about this very state of things. I certainly do not think as others, that all reports calculated to encourage hopes of peace ought to be discoun- tenanced as injurious to our cause, and de- moralizing to our soldiers; for there is nothing which buoys up my spirits more, or tend more to make me patient & contented, than these same hopes of a speedy peach, which otherw- ise [‘which otherwise’ struck-through] however delusive they may be, & however often they may disappear. I was glad to see from you letter that things on my farm are beginning to brighten up a little, and hope they will yet get straight by spring. I know if I could be at home, for a month or so, I could manage by taking [?] cuts to get things up again. Tell Mr. Harris to leave off such little rough places in the two fields he intends putting in corn & oats, as will throw them back any; and as he is back ward to pick only the best land for corn, & not attempt too much, but try and have things done in time. Those rough places would hardly make anything this year, & I merely wished to have them gotten up for appearance, & that they may be improved. If he cannot plough them now & bring them in cultivation; by having a smaller crop to tend in the summer, he may fallow them & get them seeded in winter oats during the summer or fall. I would like to have as much of the [gransey?] lot as possible seeded in clover, & think it would be best to sprinkle some seed over that portion of it which was seeded in herds-grass when it was last in cultiva- tion. I think there will be seed enough for this, & to let your Pa have as many as he wants, though I am sorry now I didn’t order two bags instead of one, as I would have done if I had time to think. I would like to have as much land put in to- bacco as possible – at least 75,000 hills if he can get the suitable land & enough ma- nure. The rough manure may be [hauled?] on the land near the farm pen (or the little orchard) & the stable manure & ashes on the land near the double barn. I would like also to make a few barrels of corn for sale, as I have made

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this one of my rules of farming. They had best put some stable manure on the poorest places in the little orchard. I think you had best let off your sugar cane crop this year; as all such things, unless you are well fixed for them, only [tend?] to throw back the main crops, without being of much profit. I think too they needn’t attempt a large pea or bean crop, but plant a good crop of sweet & especially irish potatoes. It is now evening, & the clouds have broken off, & the sun is shining out beautifully. You dont know how much more pleasantly, the writing of this poor letter has carried me to pass this dark, dull day, or rather a portion of it, all because it is to my Darling; for I couldn’t have gotten up the resolution to write to anyone else. If it gives you pleasure, Darling, then will I agree with you that it is [underscored] a right good letter. I didn’t intend to write it so closely, but through mistake commenced it so, & concluded to keep on. I hope you will not find it difficult to read. After all, it doesn’t contain much, but comes to you as a token of my love, - just as all of my others are. – and you appreciate them as such, & praise them & love to read them, and this richly repays me – more richly than anything else could. Tom [Tamy?] hasn’t gotten his discharge yet, but is looking for it every day. He wrote to his brother Sam to-day, who is a con- script at camp Lee in R[ich]mond, to come down & join us, & I expect he will be down soon. We are looking for Sam Vaughan now every day, as he wrote that he would be down to-day or to-morrow – He will take Joe [Tammy’s?] place in our mess, & Joe will have to go into some other, as we had promised the place to Sam Vaughan. The box I brought is about giving out – all gone except two hams & a few peas, about two dozen eggs & a large pot of lard. I am sorry I didn’t bring more apples & peas. Next to the butter, we enjoy them most. You have written several times to know if I wanted an- other box – You may send one by the first op- portunity – to the Rail Road. I will answer Mil- dred’s letter to-morrow or next day, & write one to Charley. Tell Lou it is her turn to write now. Give much love to all [underscored] – Am glad that [Grandia...?] will not be compelled to go to [?] Stephen will be more apt to take care of him- self. Joe [?] says I have been writing long enough & I reckon it is so. I enclose Patties last letter with this. – Your devoted husband, N[athaniel] V. W[atkins