Waynesville, Ga.
June 13th, 1862
My dearest wife,
You can best imagine how perfectly delighted I was, after a long ride of fifty miles on horseback, both sick and tired, to find a sweet letter, one bearing intelligence to me of those dear ones far away, yet ever present.
I was ordered to St. Marys three days after you left and did not return till this evening. Everything down there seems quiet. Several Yankee gunboats were cruising around Fernandina, but they did not feel disposed to give us a call. One cannon, however, was fired in the direction of us but the ball fell so far short they did not shoot anymore. We expect to return there the 29th of this month. You need not expect to hear from me very often when we get down there as I won't have any way of sending letters. That is the cause of the long delay this time. I had no chance of sending the letter. You don't know how much I do miss my little wife and baby [1]. I would give anything if you were only back. I know I would not give my consent for you to go again. But dearest, how thankful I am that you got through safely. I was so afraid that some accident would happen to you. I dream every night of you and Eula, and awake to find it but a dream. I am afraid that several months will elapse ere I have the pleasure of clasping those dear ones to my heart again, but darling perhaps it is all for the best. I hope when we do meet again to see you looking as fat, as blooming, and as pretty as when I first knew you as Miss Nicholes. You must eat a plenty of up country bacon and grow fat. Also, give my dear little Eula as much as she can eat. I know you will starve her as long as she is away from me, but you must tell Dt. Nicholes [2] to make you feed her when she cries.
I know if it were left to you she would either have to take a drink or a dose of colic medicine. How I think it must have been very provoking to have to nurse the baby right before folks, but I think she was only contending for her rights, and I must coincide with, rather than condemn her conduct on that occasion.
I received a letter from brother B [3] last week. They were all well out there.
Our old Regiment is now in Virginia and I would be willing to give half I am worth to be there with them. It seems that we will never have a fight down here, and if we should have one it would be to contend with those miserable gun boats where there is no chance of doing anything. Mrs. Curry died yesterday. She was sick, I believe, when you left. No one else has died or been born since you left. Henry, Johnny, and Mr. Mathews still continue to make their nightly visits to the 'Beehive.' I suppose the young ladies must be very interesting or they would not go over so often. You must give a great deal of love to Sister Lidia for me, and tell her I am very sorry I could not come up to drink some of the nice coffee she bought for me, but to keep it and I will yet make her the visit. (That is, you the visit, and her the convenience) ere the summer closes. God bless her, may she live a thousand years and you too. You must give a great deal of love to all, and also to Annie and Aunt Mary, Lilly, and all the children.
Now dearest I must close as paper is scarce. Give my little Eula a thousand sweet kisses for papa, and tell her to give them all back to her mama. May heaven's sweetest blessings ever attend the dear! dear! absent ones that I love ten thousand times ten thousand times more than I do my own existence.
Write often dear wife for your sweet letters are the only enjoyment I have. Goodbye, dear ones.
Nate
[1] A note on the typed page, possibly written on the letter by Louisa. stated that 'Eula was three months old at the time'
[2] Dr. Nicholes - Loulie's father was a physician
[2] brother B is likely Nate's older brother Burwell
note: in a later letter Loulie says that she and Eula went to Marietta June 1 to say with Loulie's parents during the summer to avoid the coastal heat
