Jan. 29, 1867. Dearest mother,
I wrote to Han last Saturday. I hope you manage to keep comfortable this cold winter—it must be pretty tough up there on that bleak hill—It has been very cold here, but I have not minded it—My thick overcoat that Nelson made comes in first-rate this winter—it is quite good yet—I have not bought any new clothes for a long while—suppose I must get some next spring.
There is a Bill before Congress to give extra pay to the clerks—if it passes I shall have something extra, too—but I make no calculations on it, for I think it quite uncertain. The debates in Congress now are quite exciting—sometimes they hold their sessions quite late in the night, & things get to be quite stormy. William Hunter (who is in the House, from Brooklyn, to fill out James Humphrey's term) called a Republican member "a liar"—so the Speaker had Mr. Hunter up before him & gave him a formal reprimand—it was last Saturday. Mrs. Mix went that cold Friday night, twelve days ago—I have not heard from her. It was a bad night for a journey, & the track was blocked with snow.
I receive letters from the soldiers every now & then. Within a week I have had two invitations—one is from a young fellow named Alfred Pratt. I knew him in one of the hospitals two years ago, & more. His folks are farming people out in northwestern New York, near the shores of Lake Erie—he writes half the letter, & his father & mother write the other half, inviting me to come there & pay them a visit—the parents say they "will do every thing they can to make a country visit agreeable"—the letter is very old fashioned, but very good. Then I had another invitation, from a Michigan boy. He has got married, & has a small farm, not far from Detroit.
Do you remember Lewis Brown, the Maryland boy, who had such a time with his leg, & had it amputated at last in Armory Square hospital? He is quite well otherwise, & has got a place in the Treasury Dep't. I send the advertisement of the new book about the Ninth Corps—if George wants it, I think he can find it at the American News Co. 121 Nassau st. New York—We have ill luck among the clerks &c in our office—I send a little slip from the Washington Star—then another clerk, Mr. Rowland, is lying very sick. It is doubtful if he recovers. Wm. O'Connor has just been in to see me—He is well & flourishing.
Walt.Mother, no letter from you the past week—