ŌThere is some talk of draftingĶ



Sunday July 6th 1862


Dear Clarinda


I want you to come home.  I want to see you so bad I donÕt know what to do.  I received you letter last Thursday and oh how glad I was.  I have looked so long for one I was almost afraid you had forgotten about me.


This morning I went and bought some meat and sot it a cooking on the stove and then went a doing housework.  I made my bed, swept the parlor, mopped the kitchen, ate my breakfast, and now I am writing this letter.  It is so hot I donÕt know what to do with myself.


Clara, I am sorry that you have stayed to RoseÕs so long and not visited your folks any more.  But I am so lonesome and I want to see you so bad I donÕt know what to do.  Do please come as soon as you can.  I should like to have you visit all your friends while you are there.  But it is too bad to live alone so long.  It seems to me most two months since you have been gone.  Almeda is getting along quite smart considering we have such hot weather here.  Rachel is taking care of her.  Almeda tires almost out.  She is so much like a baby.  She tries to have Bill stay home from his work but he wonÕt do it.  Dr. Russell is taking care of her. 


Last Friday was Fourth of July but it was not much to me.  I would [have] worked all day if they would let me.  Our folks kept a stand and it helped them some.  They did not make much for such a fine day.  I spent 2 shillings for a cap, thatÕs all, and at night I went to bed at half past eight oÕclock. 


Sam Holt tried to coax me off with him to some fancy house and said he would pay the whole bill and when I spoke of my duty to wife and dear children away from home he laughed at me and said you would never know the difference.  But he might have coaxed all night and it would of done no good.  God knows if I would be dishonest or mean to my wife.  No, Clara, I never have or never will.  The women in the neighborhood wonder I stay so close to home when my wife is away.  The say their men wouldnÕt do it.


Mother has washed my coat and shirts since you have been gone.  Clara, I will send you one dollar to come home and I would send you more but money letters do not go very safe sometimes.  Dearest Clara, when you get this write immediately and let me know when you will come and I will meet you at the depot.


There is some talk of drafting.  Lincoln has called for 3 hundred thousand more men and they canÕt be got without draft.  Be sure and write as soon as you get this and tell me how long I will have yet to wait before I can see that which I hold on earth most dear, you and my children.  Kiss yourself and the babies for me and be a good woman for one who holds [you] higher than anything else on earth, my own Clarinda.


From your own true Peter.  Come home to me as soon as you can without being out of patience with me.