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have long since found not to be the most profitable business, and you must not expect me until you see me stepping into the door.

I have not heard from home since I last wrote to you, but hope that everything is all right. I have never seen your son, and expect that he did not come by Demopolis, or I should have seen him on his return.

My kindest regards to your husband and Gus Flotron. I should like very much to see Gus. You may tell him that I say he had better be careful how he is flirting with the girls, as this is leap year, and the first thing he knows he will have his heart gone-who knows where? Tell him to find me a nice sweetheart, as I believe I will not be able to find one myself, having failed thus far in all of my efforts.

Farewell, old friend! I have succeeded in drawing out my letter so as to make it appear "some pumpkins," but, alas, it is nothing. Would it were worthier. Let me hear from you soon, and think kindly of

Your true friend.

FRED G. GUTHERS.

P. S. Address my letters to Demopolis.

Stout Hospital, Milledgeville, Ga., Feb. 24, 1865.

My Dear Grandma-Once more am I permitted, by the kind hand of Providence, to pen you a few lines to let you hear from me.

On the 4th of this month, coming to this place, the cars ran off the track, and I was made one of the sufferers among many others of the Texas boys. Uncle Jimmey Rainey's son was so badly bruised that he died on the 21st of this month, and two others have died, and several are M*

in their beds from injuries received. One lost his leg, and is maimed for life. As to myself, I can get around the house, though I am badly bruised. I would have written to you long before this, but Mr. Burrill told me that the Grampkin Hospital was broken up, and that he did not know what had become of you. I met with a little Kentuckian here, by the name of Mills, who told me that you was at the Hill, so I concluded to drop you a few lines to let you know that I had not forgotten you, nor will I ever do so as long as I live.

I wrote from Natasralga, Ala., and sent you a letter from my dear sister; and in the letter I made a request of you, but was compelled to leave in a few days, so I did not get your answer. Let me know if you receive this letter. I have only received the note by Mr. Burrill since I left the hospital. I am very anxious to hear from you: and if you can comply with my request, you will oblige your Texas friend, Bobbie.

One of my brigade, who was left at the hospital when I left, said that several letters came for me, and were sent on to my command, while it was in Tennessee, and that all of the mails that were sent to us, while we were up there, were lost; the Yanks got one, and the bushwhackers got the other; so, if you wrote, that was the way they

went.

I went all through the Tennessee campaign, and I tell you that I saw some hard times, and then to get nearly killed on an old car, is rather disheartening. I could tell you a great deal if I could see you. I am very weak, and can write but little.

I asked the doctor for a furlough to go and see you and the Misses Conners, and he said that there was no chance for a Texian to get a furlough. So, if I can get a blank, I will go and see the Misses Conners anyhow, as I want to get my clothes. I have been without socks all this

winter, and while I was in Tennessee I suffered very much.

Oh, Grandma! I do wish that I could get a furlough, so that I could visit you, for you have been like a mother to me; and when I write to my dear sister I always tell her that I have a friend and a mother here; and sister wrote you a nice letter, tendering you many thanks, indeed; and if you did not get the letter, I am very sorry.

When I got here, the first thing I tried to get was a transfer, and the surgeon in charge told me that he would not transfer any patients, as it was against orders.

Poor Ogle Love was killed at the battle of Franklin, and McHenry was taken prisoner, so I believe that I am the only one of the old rats who is left.

Dr. Doyle is at this hospital; and Mr. Lane is also here. This is a poor place. I have seen the matron some four or five times since I have been here, and think she is of the Mrs. Ellis stripe-only for the doctors to play with. She does not do like old Grandma.

No news worth writing. Doyle is very friendly with I was not in his ward. I was under the treatment of Dr. Gockhart.

me.

Hoping to hear from you soon, I will close. Let me know if the Misses Conners are at Warrington or at Covington.

My love to your husband, and remember me in your prayers, is my honest request.

Your true friend until death,

R. D. COMPTON.

Hill Hospital, Feb. 26, 1865.

Many thanks to Mrs. Smith for the nice present sent me, with many assurances of the highest esteem; and also

my best wishes for her happiness and prosperity. I shall keep it as a memento of my true, tried and constant, friend; and when I smoke the pipe of peace over a redeemed and disenthralled nation, I promise to remember kindly one who assisted me so faithfully in administering to the wants of the suffering, but gallant soldiers who have been under my care whilst in charge of Hill Hospital. With sincere regard, I am, as ever,

Your true friend,

W. H. ROBERTSON,
Surgeon P. A. C. 8.

Nottaway County, Va., January 7, 1866.

My Dear Old Friend-You have no idea how gratifying your kind letter was to me, and how I appreciate the kind feeling you have for me. You are well aware that it is fully reciprocated, as I esteem you always for your generous heart, your true patriotism, your high sense of honor, and last, though not least, for your indefatigable efforts in behalf of the suffering soldiers. Your assistance in the arduous duties of the hospital was a source of very great sasisfaction, and I shall always remember you, and feel grateful to think that I merited your friendship. I am now living two miles from the junction of the Richmond and Danville railroad with the South Side. This point is fifty miles south of Petersburg and Richmond. In consequence of the liberation of the slaves, and the losses I sustained from the destruction of Confederate notes, I am unable to live in Petersburg for the present; but hope to move to some city before very long, as the country practice is both laborious and unprofitable. You must have encountered many difficulties in reaching your home, and I congratulate you on your safe arrival and the safety of

your son. I sm sure Mrs. Mughs made the hospital pay her for the disappointment she suffered at not getting your place. I found great difficulty in getting to Virginia, and remained sometime at Gov. Pickens' after the surrender. I found my dear family quite well, though they suffered very severe losses. My five little ones are very fair specimens, in fine health, and a great help to us in these troubulous times. I have heard from none of our Georgia friends, with the exception of Mrs. Luckie, who asked me to see after her husband's grave, which I did, and have written to her to-day. I wrote to Nichol a few days since, which makes the second letter without receiving any reply. I do not know what has become of Clay, not hearing from him since leaving Cuthbert. I would like to meet all of my old friends again; but, alas, we can never meet again on earth. I need not tell you anything of the times, for we are all sufferers together. Give my kind regards to Mr. Smith and your son. Beck, my wife, desires to be remembered to you. If you ever visit Virginia, be assured you will always find a cordial welcome at my house. I would like so much to have a social chat with you to-night, and fancy I can see you sitting near your fire in your neatly kept rooms with your pipe, and your friends around you; or, else I can picture you going from tent to tent dispensing charity to the poor wounded soldiers. God will reward you for this, and many a noble spirit will bless you through all time. Write soon. May your life be prosperous and happy, and God bless you, is the sincere wish of

Your friend,

WM. H. ROBERTSON.

Nottaway, May 4, 1866.

My Dear Old Friend-Your favor of the 25th of April

reached me safely, and, as usual, gave me unfeigned pleas

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