Letter dated Wednesday July 7th 1862, page 4

A handwritten letter, page 4 of multiple, in the same hand and dark ink as the preceding scans. The page is fully written top to bottom in the same dense cursive. The bottom of the sheet ends mid-sentence; the letter evidently continues onto a further leaf not in this scan run.

[Continuation from previous page.]

all right, still safe & well" — Uncle E. says “he fears from reports of Mr. Conner that the hot weather will not permit any conservative Surgery & that amputation must ensue” — Frank Ravenel killed 1st July, buried by Ford Prioleau" — Toby says "I am well & feel strangely impressed with any preservation from the dangers which have [cancelled: crossed the] [caret insertion: ended the] career of so many noble men of our side — We are 12 or 15 miles from Richmond & close in camp — Col. W. reported for service on 25th but no command was assigned him till 28th — he had the Infantry Battalion with 3 Va. Regt. temporarily — We hear that Shubrick Hayne died of wounds received during the Battle. So far no news of any injury to any of our many friends in Va. have come to us — Uncle Sanford wrote me he would like to come up here, but I rather think professional calls & uneasiness about the attack on Charleston will prevent — Fanny was better — & Father had an attack like the one last spring but was better. Wm. says in his letter “Tell Kate, Uncle John goes to bed every night with the clothes brush, on account of Red Bugs — they are a forest animal about half the size of a [illegible] flea.” Aunt Bet says Aunt Abby got a letter from Sam Dated 25th July — 30 vessels [lay?] below Vicksburg out of range of our guns — the fleet above also in sight — He is four miles from the river out of reach of shells — weather intensely hot, no rain for weeks. You hear news so fully, that I feel all the time, as if you had heard already, what I have to say, but as you, [illegible] [own?] mind I write it — Father takes “Richmond Whig” & Wm. & Aunt Bet send Cha’s papers & we generally see a Col’s paper so that by degrees we hear of what has happened, but it is all “History” when we hear it — it has long ceased to be news at this time — I have all the time a feeling as if I was holding my breath till something is over, & as if there is not time to think or talk. I wish often you were here to talk to Father & Mother about the events as they come, — I, or some of us will write when Father comes, about his trip — Tell Jane howdy for all of us — I hope she is having a comfortable