LETTER XXXIII.
Benton Barracks Hospital,
August 9.
Dear Mother,—I suppose you are at home by this
time and ready for a letter from me. I am busy as
ever. Our good Doctor—Dr. Ira Russell—goes home
this week on a furlough of twenty days. He says he
shall try to go out to Cambridge and see you and
father; now if he comes please do all you can for him;
he has been a most kind friend to me, instructing me
in my duties, supporting me on all occasions, and taking
care of me in the kindest manner. He is very
anxious to see his wife and children and so takes this
furlough. A surgeon from another hospital takes his
place while he is gone. I am desired to keep on, so
suppose I shall. I shall try conscientiously to do my
work, and then if it does not suit I shall feel that I am
not to blame. It is hot here now. but I do not mind
it, I feel better than usual in hot weather. Your
boxes will do great good, the soft linen was exactly
what we wanted, the bandages also. Every thing was
needed and gladly received; the cologne was very refreshing,
this hot weather it is doubly needed. I wish
I could see you for a little while,—would not we talk?
I should have so many questions to ask. Is there
anything new in Cambridge? I wonder whether I
shall be lonesome when I get to Heaven. I mean to
go there; I must be where there is the Bible and little
children; I hope I shall have the care of little children
by and by.
I stopped writing to go and see a dying man; he
was peaceful and quiet though a little wandering; there
was the most beautiful presence, or sphere, around
him; the good spirits must be very near, close and
ready to help. It always seems to me when I think
of it like a birth in this world, when all are ready to
welcome and meet the new-comer. If our spiritual
sight were opened what a beautiful sight we should
see!—all those waiting spirits and their tender loving
care. I feel a little homesick to-night, but if I were to
give up my work and go home I could not be happy,
so I must be thankful I am here.
