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Dear Benton Wilson, Dear loving comrade,

As I have just been again reading your last letter to me of December 19, last, I think I wrote to you on receiving it, but cannot now remember for certain. Sometimes, after an interval, the thought of one I much love comes upon me strong & full all of a sudden—& now as I sit here by a big open window, this beautiful afternoon, every thing quiet & sunny—I have been, & am now, thinking so of you, dear young man, & of your love, or more rightly speaking, our love for each other—so curious, so sweet, I say so religious

We met there in the Hospital—how little we have been together—seems to me we ought to be some together every day of our lives—I don't care about talking, or amusement—but just to be together, & work together, or go off in the open air together—Now it is a long while since we have been together—& it seems a long while since I have had a letter. Don't blame me for not writing oftener.

I know you would feel satisfied if you could only realize how & how much I am thinking of you, & with what great love, this afternoon. I can hardly express it in a letter—but I thought I would just write a letter this time off-hand to you, dearest soldier, only for love to you—I thought it might please you.

Nothing very new or different in my affairs. I am still working here in Atty Gens office—same posish—have good health—expect to bring out new editions of my books before very long—how is the little boy—I send my love to him, & to your wife & parents.