(Copyright held by the Pearce Civil War Collection, Navarro College Archives.
To request permission to use the following letter in electronic or print format, please contact the archivist.)

Fort Pemberton, March 22nd /63

Little Honey

I received, this morning, from you a long, sweet, letter dated the 18th & 23rd of Feb'y, & can assure you that nothing ever gave me greater pleasure than learning from it that you and Callie were getting along so well. I think you say rather too much about my not writing; or rather, about not receiving my letters. I write to you regularly every week unless something, which I cannot control, intervenes to prevent it. And speaking of not receiving letters, Little Honey, it is sometimes as much as six weeks between the times of my receiving letters from you. We have become quiet here again; the fighting is all over, the Yankees whipped & gone back up the river. I wrote you a few days since; since which we have had no fighting. They done us but little damage, though occasionally they kept up a pretty hot fire of shot shell &c. I had only two men hurt in my company, & both of them slightly. So far as we can learn we killed about 20 of them; as to the wounded we have not yet learned their loss, though it is usually about five to one in proportion to the killed. The news here today is that other gunboats have come, or are coming, by some passes below this into the Yazoo River. If such is the case we will, probably, not remain here long. You know I have always wanted to get into a battle; well, I have now been in a small one, & am entirely satisfied. I believe I would not care half so much about the whizzing of bullets if it were not for you & Callie. But it seemed to me every time the firing became particularly furious, you & Callie would be uppermost in my mind, & I could hardly think of anything else. I expect it is true about the Yankees coming in below us; for even now, while I am writing, I can hear the distant roar of cannon in that direction.
You say a good deal, Little Darling, about my coming home in time to enjoy the garden peas &c. That would be a considerable inducement, it is time; but fond as I am of vegetables (and you know how much that is) I would willingly agree never to touch another one in my life, if I could, by that means, get to go home now. I feel very gloomy, Little Honey, about the war, or rather its duration. I admit that I cant see how it is to be carried on much longer, but, at the same time, I don't see any more prospect of its closing than did some three or four months ago. So far as I can learn, all the peace-movements that we have been hearing of in the North Western States have either proven abortive, or it was all a humbug at the start. But there is no use in repining, or even feeling gloomy about it, & I rarely allow myself to do it; for there is nothing more certain than that we are compelled to fight the matter squarely out, & to establish ourselves as an independent nation, or to be subjugated & made slaves to the Yankees. I think a great deal of my own life, & a great deal more of your's & Callie's, but I would sacrifice all before submitting to such a degradation. I have an abiding faith in my good luck, Little Honey, & feel perfectly satisfied that I shall return home some day, safe & sound. Wont we be happy then? We will be so perfectly willing & prepared to look over & excuse each the little foibles of the other that I see no chance whatever of there ever being another cross word between us. _____ I have already, in a former letter, written you what clothes I shall want; but for fear you may not receive the letter, I will repeat. I shall want, as soon as you can send them, the calico shirts you speak of, also some socks & summer pants. I received the socks you sent me, but the others I had were about worn out, so that, by the time you can send on more, I shall, very probably need them. I would prefer grey pants if you can get that kind of cloth; if not, then blue, like the sample you sent me. I expect you had, also, better send me some more drawers. I believe that closes the list. I write only about summer clothing, for notwithstanding my gloomy feeling about the termination of the war, I expect, any how, to be at home before I shall need any winter clothing. My health is very good, though I still continue in that same strange state of depletion which I wrote you about before. I am actually trim. I had almost said slim. So, if Callie should again ask you any questions relative to my abdominal protuberance, you can answer, positively, "no; more to speak of". As to the Company, we have a good many on the sick list again, resulting, I suppose, from the exposure & fatigue during the fight here. None of them though are seriously sick. Jim Blackman is sick; in fact, he has not been in good health for some time. I believe I have no more news to write you, Little Honey. I wont try to tell you how much I love you, Little Darling. If I could only have you in my arms one little half hour, I would show my own sweet little wife how much I love her, without ever saying a single word. I have "made" Bobolink a letter, which I enclose. Remember me to all at home. De.

[Transcriber note: Reference to enclosed letter for Bobolink is not with the transcribed letter.]