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Dear Mother,

I got a long letter from George, dated near Lancaster, Kentucky, May 15th—he seems to be well & in good spirits, says he gets some letters from me & papers too—At the time he wrote, the 51st was doing provost duty at Lancaster, but would not probably remain so very long—seem to be moving toward southeast Kentucky—had a good camp, & good times generally. LeGendre is colonel—Gen. Ferrero has left the service—Col. Potter (now Brig. Gen.) is in Cincinnati—Capt. Sims &c are all well—George describes Kentucky as a very fine country—says the people are about half & half, secesh & union. This is the longest letter I have yet rec'd from George. Did he write you one about the same time? Mother, I have not rec'd any word from home in over a week—the last letter I had from Mr. Lane was about 12 days ago, sending me $10 for the soldiers, (5 from Mr. Kirkwood & 5 from Conklin Brush.)

Mother dear, I should like to hear from Martha, I wish Jeff would write me about it—has Andrew gone? & how is your wrist & arm, mother—We have had some very hot weather here—I don't know what I should have done without the thin grey coat you sent—you don't know how good it does, & looks too—I wore it three days, & carried a fan & an umbrella, (quite a Japanee)—most every body here carries an umbrella, on acc't of the sun—yesterday & to-day however have been quite cool, east wind—Mother, the shirts were a real godsend, they do first rate, I like the fancy Marseilles collar & wristbands—

Mother, how are you getting along—I suppose just the same as ever—I suppose Jess & Ed are just the same as ever—when you write, you tell me all about every thing, & the Browns, & the neighborhood generally. Mother, is George's trunk home & of no use, there? I wish I had it here, as I must have a trunk—but do not wish you to send it, until I send you word—I suppose my letter never appeared in the Eagle, well I shall send them no more, as I think likely they hate to put in any thing which may celebrate me a little, even though it is just the thing they want for their paper & readers. They altered the other letter on that account, very meanly. I shall probably have letters in the N. Y. Times & perhaps other papers in about a week—Mother, I have been pretty active in hospitals for the past two weeks, somewhere every day or night—I have written you so much about cases &c I will not write you any more, on that subject this time—O the sad, sad things I see, the noble young men with legs & arms taken off—the deaths—the sick weakness, sicker than death, that some endure, after amputations—(there is a great difference, some make little of it, others lie after it for days, just flickering alive, & O so deathly weak & sick)—I go this afternoon to Campbell Hospital, out a couple of miles.

Mother, I should like to have Jeff send me 20 of the large sized portraits & as many of the standing figure, do them up flat. I think every day about Martha. Mother, have you heard any further about Han? Good bye for the present, dearest mother.

Walt