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Master Charlie R. Watkins
My dear little Boy. You dont know how glad it makes me to get a letter from you. I sometimes fear that little Char- lie will forget how his Pa looks, and that when I get home he will hardly know me – and that little Minnine will be afraid of me: but I will try to come home soon before you all forget me. I am living out in the woods, in Cloth houses, and I see a great many birds, and to-day I saw a little squirrel, with his long bushy tail, run- ning up a tree. I see a great many men every day with guns so big that it takes six horses to pull one gun – and when they shoot them, they sound like thunder. I often wish that I could have my little boy with me some, and some times, at night, I dream about him, but when I wake up he is not in my arms as he used to be at home, and then I pray that God will watch over him, and make him a good boy.


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Tell Mary that I will try to write to her soon. Every day two boys walk by my cloth house and beat two drums. I wish you could see them – it looks so funny I know it would make you laugh. One of the drums is a great big one, and the other is small. Yesterday I saw a lady who had some little chil- dren about the size of you & Minnine. I loved them because they reminded me of you – the little girl was named [Eddie?] [Aiten?], - she was older than Minnie but couldn’t talk at all. Tell Mamma she must teach you your letters so that you may spell for me when I come home. You must take good care of my dog, Tasso, and feed him until he is fat e- nough to eat. I found a little dog the other day with his tail & ears cut off. I will draw him for you – here he is – [drawing] What do you think of him! I named him Yankee. Write again soon, & tell me about the little [cal...?]

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[Postmarked envelope] - [unable to read]
[Letter] Chaffin’s Bluff Batteries
Feb[ruar]y 12th, 1863
My dear wife:_
In my letter to Mildred, Tuesday, I promised to write yesterday or to-day. [Would?] have written yesterday, but was busy, so [ay fixing up our tents so as to [make a ?] bunk for Joe [H?], or Joe [To...?]; and doing sev- eral other little things which I have been putting off from day to day. I feel like writ- eing to you every day, just as I would feel like talking with you constantly were I at home with you; but there are other things to be done, & the inconvenience of writing is generally very great in camp. I am sitting now out of [?] in a [?] considerable wind writing on my pocket testament; and keeping a bright look-out all the time, for Col[onel] [Maury?] [lest?] he may catch me writing while on post. I felt very glad that you have again underta- ken to write regularly every mail day, & to get another full-sheeted letter from you; I can see for myself from these things that you are


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strengthening, and are again almost well. And oh, Darling, this makes me more anxious than ever to come home & be with you again. I know [that?] [page torn] I love you more since your sickness than [page torn] & look forward with greater impatience to the [page torn] we can live together at home, than [we?] did before. I have received now all of the letters you have written up to last Friday, and am beginning now to look for your Tuesday’s letter. I like to think always that there is a letter on the way coming from you to me. I was much troubled at hearing that some of my negroes have been drafted to work on the fortifications at Weldon. I know what hard- ships & exposures they are subjected to, & how little care is taken of them: - & [?] it is so [co...ting?] & demoralizing. But it is right for me to take my turn with others, & we will be fortunate in securing the ser- vices of so good a man as Mr. Bennett. Gram & Stephen & Jordan are the selections. I would have made. From what I saw

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during the short time I was at Home; and the bad weather you have had since; & Mr. Harris’ accounts, as you gave it in your last letter; and the draft of three of my best hands, I fear very much that, every thing will be so backward on my farm, the crop of [this year?] will be as great, if not a greater, failure than it was last. Why doesn’t Mr. H[arris] use [no?] authority, & rule the negroes up more strictly! If he finds out that he cant do this, going down three days in every week, would it not be best for your Pa to try & employ Tom Pittard as I suggested while at Home, and get him to be with my hands some every day. I think it very important that I should make a good crop this year. What has been done about getting me a new ox-cart? [What...cart’ underscored] I would like to use Mr. Davis’ wheels as little as possible. I answered the questions about the clover seed in my last to Mildred. I am very much interested in all these things about Home, & allow myself to be troubled sometimes about

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them, but I know it is not right that I should be; and then they are matters of such small significance in comparison (selfishly speaking) with of [struck-through?] our [losing?] & continued separation, I generally feel disposed to pass over them lightly. I would like it very much to hear that the Tom C[arrington] land purchase has been all settled up; and that the young trees have been planted in our orchard & yard. I [enter?] into all of your & your Ma’s plans about making flax cloth for our clothing next summer, and speak now for a half-dosen tow towels; large & course. I fear the table-cloths [?] [?] [?] extra flourishes. I feel confident our ice- [house?] has been filled, with nice, thick ice. Oh, that I could feel certain too that we will be allowed to stay at Home next summer and enjoy it together. Our Capt[ain] & Mr. [C...?], a member of our comp[an]y, speak seriously of renting a house of Mr. Chaffin’s standing about 1/4 mile from camp, of having it fitted up, & bringing their wives down to [Marginalia – top of page] (Friday morning) – all well – a most beautiful morin[in]g

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live near them & keep house. The mess of offi- cers will board there. They say it will be much cheaper than boarding their wives in the neigh- borhood. What do you think of coming down to live with them? Were it not for the chil- dren you might easily come; but we could not bring them. I always feel uneasy for them when you write of their having colds or sore-throats, but would always have you write all of their little ailments notwithstanding. It is strange that it is so hard for us to trust each other entirely in God’s hands, when we have such repeated instances of His watchful care & kind protection over us, & all those whom we [?] Nothing could have been better timed than my short furlough at Christmas. At no time during the last ten (eleven now) months, could I have looked forward & selected the time, would I have chosen my months furlough [?] [?] but when it did come. And then I was permitted to stay until we all felt that you were out of danger; & could stand my leaving.

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Dear Precious, there is so little going on in & around camp now, I have nothing to interest you, - nothing to write but to re- hash again & again how much I love you, & how dear you are to me. I think sometimes my letters must all read alike to you, & that there is nothing to distinguish them from each other but their dates. I generally keep as many as three of your letters in my pocket, & read time again & again, until I get a new one, - always reading over those parts oftenest & with greatest pleasure, which tell of your love to me, & how you miss me. And if you should write nothing but this, & should fill sheet, after sheet of fools-cap every day, I would never tire reading them, & would always watch eagerly for the coming of the next. I have been just thinking how much happier I would be if I could get a letter from you ev- ery mail. Kiss the children for me, & give much love to all. Write as soon as Sis[ter] M[artha] gets the first no. of the So[uthern] Lit[erary] Messenger that I may know if she gets it. – Y[ou]r aff[ectionate] husband N[athanial] V. W[atkins]</html>