The last letter I wrote you was from the Park barracks, New York. I said in my letter of Friday last, that we would move soon, and so it turned out, for with but three hours notice we were ordered, by telegraph, to Washington direct.

You may imagine what a commotion there was among the men, when at six o'clock Friday evening they were ordered to Washington, and to be ready to start by nine o'clock p. m. Well, we got under way at precisely half past one Saturday morning, having waited from nine p. m., the evening before, for our baggage and equipments to be sent to the railroad depot, and our rations to be prepared for us, which latter, by the way, we never got, as they were by mistake left in New York.

You may think we were all pretty well tired waiting, but to add still to our troubles, we had to wait in New Jersey, at the depot in Jersey city, till four o'clock a. m. before the train could be got under way.

We arrived safely in Philadelphia at twelve o'clock m., and were received by the women of the city in grand style. They prepared a dinner for us free, and a good appetite we had for it, too, as we had had nothing to eat since the night before, except what food the men, at the supper table, had placed in their haversacks. As it was, they did very well, and complained but very little.

We took rail at one o'clock for Baltimore, and all through the streets of Philadelphia, as we passed in the cars, we were greeted by thousands of cheers and hurrahs. We reached Baltimore at eleven o'clock Saturday night, and immediately marched two miles to the depot of the railroad for Washington, and arrived in Washington four o'clock Sunday morning. We were all very tired, and immediately proceeded to have our supper of one slice of bread and one slice of pork per man, and a cup of coffee, after which we took a sleep of three hours duration, being called up for breakfast at seven o'clock.

At eleven o'clock a. m. we received marching orders, and proceeded to encamp on the grounds we now occupy on Meridian Hill. There are, in all, about twenty thousand men encamped near us, and we have nothing but din, and the music of bugle and fife and drum all day. I am very well, having a fine tent, ground nice and dry, a good floor to the tent, and plenty of coats to cover me with. Write soon.

We are having a fine time here in camp—plenty of tent room, as I have taken two tents and joined them in one, end to end, and now we have a sitting room, and a sleeping apartment, with a curtain between. You should see our arrangements, and I am sure you would be surprised to find how comfortable we are. Even now it is raining quite hard, but our tents are covered with large canvass flies, and no rain can get near us.

We are all well, and are not troubled with any inconveniences complained of by many in camp, except the nights are very cold, especially towards morning, and the middle of the days rather warm. But we manage to overcome the former by overcoats and extra blankets, and the latter we avoid by keeping inside of our tents.

We hardly ever take off our clothes, except to bathe, as we must be always ready to spring into our places, even at the dead of night, fully armed and equipped. I shall soon get used to such a life, and I like it more and more every day.

I think there will be a grand battle some time next month, but I am afraid we cannot get ready to be there, but we may have a chance to be lookers on. * * * * *

I resigned all claim to the majorship of the regiment, as I find the field officers will have to pass an examination here, which I could not do, as I understand nothing of battalion movements. I shall have a chance of promotion before long, I think, and then I shall be Major. I am very well satisfied with my present position. Write soon, and remember me to all friends.

We have had two or three grand reviews lately, and this has kept us all busy getting ready for inspection, so that I have had no time to do anything outside of military alfairs. Gen. Hancock, the other day, congratulated Col. Vinton on the drill and discipline of the Forty-third, and, although we have been but one month "out," he confesses us superior to regiments out over four months. This is saying a good deal for us.

We had a set of colors presented to us, the other day, by Simeon Draper, of New York. They are very handsome, and elegantly mounted. Last Thursday, four companies of our regiment, or rather parts of four companies, under command of Col. Vinton, made a reconnoissance as far as Flint Hill, or about two miles from Fairfax. Our guide said, we were the first Union troops that had been on Flint Hill, since the battle of Bull Run. He said, also, that our Colonel was the most ambitious one he had met with, as we proceeded over half a mile further than he advised, and would have gone to Fairfax, had not our orders commanded us to go but to Flint Hill. Had we gone further, our Colonel would have had to bear the consequences, had any been killed. As it was, Company A went half a mile beyond, being thrown out as skirmishers. We drove the enemy's pickets before us about a mile, they running off at double-quick, after exchanging a few shots with us. We took eight prisoners, and then returned to camp, having walked in all about twenty miles. This reconnoissance has given us quite a name for courage, and we are already known as the "plucky little Forty-third."

But I must close my letter, with the wish that you will write soon, and all the others too; and don't mind if I do not write as often as I would like to, as I am very much engaged with company aflairs. Give my love to Mother, Kate, Anna, Mary and yourself, of course, and remember me to all my numerous friends. Tell H. S. that I am sorry the articles were not sent, as anything from Albany seems one hundred per cent better, than anything bought here. Give her my regards and thanks for her kind endeavors. I have not received my box yet, and do not know what has become of it. Suppose it will turn up one of these days. I wish I had it now. Good night.

I will give you a little account of our movements since Saturday morning last: On that day we moved our camp nearer to the rebel works, and all Saturday night the firing on our immediate right was very heavy, and we expected every moment to be called to arms to repel the expected attack or sortie of the enemy. At daybreak, we were called out, and stood under arms for half an hour, were then dismissed, and breakfasted. At seven a. m. came an order to be ready to move immediately, to cross the dam and take possession of the enemy's fort, directly in front of our division, as the enemy were reported to have evacuated Yorktown and the entire line of fortifications, from the York to the James river. We at once were ready, and drew no extra rations from our commissary, thinking we could cut cross the dam and occupy the enemy's forts, or move but a short distance in advance of them, and he assuring us we could draw our rations there as well as in camp. We found the whole of the enemy's works deserted, and our only wonder was, as we filed through their works, that they evacuated them as they did, as they appeared almost invulnerable. We marched on, after we had passed this line of forts, very quickly, and found, as we went along, camp after camp deserted and the tents left, in the haste of the rebels to escape. At about four p. m., Sunday, we joined Hooker's Division, which had marched off from Yorktown, and were the advance of Heintzelman's Corps, and found that the First U. S. Cavalry, and their batteries of artillery, had had an engagement with the enemy some distance in front, overtaking the rear guard of the rebels in their retreat. They appeared to have had a severe time of it, and judging from the wounded carried past in ambulances, had been pretty well cut up. We expected an engagement every moment, and at five p. m. were drawn up in line of battle, on a place called "Whittaker's farm," a field skirted by woods, containing some two hundred or three hundred acres, and covered with a beautiful crop of wheat, a foot high. We remained here till six p. m., when a charge through the woods in front and towards the enemy's forts was ordered, and with a tremendous shout we started forward. We were halted, however, by Gen. Hancock, before we cleared the woods, he not knowing the exact position of the enemy, and being too good a General to risk our charging on any uncertainty. We remained all night in the woods, lying on our arms, my company being deployed in front of our regiment. It was anything but agreeable, as I had no overcoat, no blanket to lie down on, nothing but my pants, vest and jacket. The night being chilly, I was compelled to keep warm by pacing from tree to tree all night, no fires being allowed, as we did not know how manv yards we were from the enemy. At three a. m., Monday, it commenecd to rain, and before long we were all waked. At five a. m. we fell back to the commencement of the woods, to build small fires and warm ourselves. We remained in this position most of the day, expecting every moment to be ordered forward, although we had had nothing to eat, and it was raining hard all day; but the order did not come, as we (the Federals) held our own admirably, and defeated our adversary at every point. Our brigade lost but four killed and fifteen wounded, as far as I can learn.

Sickles' Brigade, on our left, was badly cut up, and lost many, killed and wounded. I took a walk yesterday morning all through the woods and over the field, where the fighting was the heaviest. I saw a great many of the relbels lying in the woods, dead, (our own men who had fallen having been buried,) and a sad sight it was, almost all the dead having been shot through the breast or head. They have all been buried, and the wounded all well cared for. I took a stroll through Williamsburg, and found quite a number of white families still living in the town, and any quantity of negroes, some of them very intelligent. It seems that when their masters retreated, they (the negroes) took to the woods, and returned as our army advanced. The town is a pretty country one, and is some three miles or more from the James river. It contains some very fine churches and dwellings, and is by far the prettiest place I have seen in the south. I found from the negroes that it must have had a population of eight or ten thousand at one time, being a very old town, and quite unique in appearance. The streets through the town are in an awful condition. Wagons sink in to the hubs, and drawing the heavy wagons, is very heavy work for the mules and horses. Gen. McClellan had his head-quarters at a large mansion in the town. I do not know how soon we shall move from this camp, and am in no anxiety about it, as we are pleasantly encamped in a wood, on high ground, and near a splendid cold spring of water. Indeed, it seems like another country here, from the old camp before Yorktown, as the country above that city is rolling and elevated, and the air pure and healthy. One report is, that we shall follow up the enemy, who are said to have made a stand on the Chickahominy river; another, that we shall go to Richmond, to be garrisoned there, after it is taken; and still another, that Norfolk will be our destination. I think the former the most probably true one; but am no way concerned about our movements, as long as I keep well and our men are in as good spirits as at present. It must be very demoralizing to the rebels to be forced to fall back with defeat from such strong works as those of Yorktown and Williamsburg, especially after having employed six thousand negroes for over six months on each of these lines of forts. I should not be surprised if the report of Magruder's surrender would prove true in a few days, and if this happens, the Old Dominion may be counted one of the Union. I forgot to tell you that on our advance from the forts at Yorktown, we dug up many shells and torpedoes, buried in the roads, and fixed so that the least pressure upon the fuse would explode them, but they were discovered too soon to do any damage; and all along our march we had a squad of picked men precede us to examine the roads we had to march over. Such an operation on the part of the enemy is the best proof of their cowardice we could have, and holds them up in their true light. I saw quite a number of prisoners yesterday, whom we had taken at the last battle. They were, with few exceptions, poor specimens of the creature, man, and had all of them a downcast, sorrowful expression, which, added to their variety of coarse clothes, gave them the appearance of a lot of thieves or jail inhabitants. They are well treated by our men, however, and will, no doubt, be thankful that they have escaped to such merciful captors.

We have frequent skirmishes with the enemy nearly every day, as we are in hot pursuit of him to prevent him from fortifying further this side of Richmond. Gen. McClellan anticipates being there on Thursday, I believe, if all goes well. It may be longer before we reach that devoted city, as the weather is very warm and marching very fatiguing. Our troops stand it well, having been pretty well inured to it, but the eftect on new recruits would be very "sensible." Gen. McClellan seems to be "wrapt up" in his troops, and well may he be proud of them, and of their victorious march. I have at last got a little contraband, about twelve or thirteen years old. He is jet black, a good looking little "dark," and answers to the name of "Carter." I will bring him home, if I can, and he will stay with me. I wish I had my box, as our fare is hard, very hard, and it is almost impossible to get anything but hard crackers, coffee and sugar; and salt meat, seldom "fresh, is served to us; but I do not complain at all of our fare, as long as I keep well, and our arms are victorious and old rebeldom overcome. I do not know how soon we shall engage them in conflict again, but I trust Heaven may grant us the victory in all our contests, and soon peace be restored to our beloved country. You should see the negroes here. We meet any quantity of them, and each house on our journey is decorated with a huge white flag, whether the occupants are white or black. We do not touch anything belonging to the inhabitants on our march, but, of course, we return no slaves coming to and with us, as we do not believe in slavery, and do not intend to pollute the old flag with any more "negro slavery protection." I have held many conversations with negroes about their opinion of us and their former masters. I went over to Williamsburg the other day, and through some of the log cabins of the once slaves. I asked one very nice looking colored woman what she thought of our soldiers in comparison with the rebel troops. She said: "Your men look so very bold—don't hang down their heads as our soldiers do. Your troops frighted the life out of our men; and then the good clothes—oh, my! they look like soldiers."An old man, in another cabin, said of our troops firing, on the day of the battle of Williamsburg: "I notice that when our men fire, your men don't fall; but when your men fire, our men come down very fast." They all tell of the ridiculous stories of their masters and missus; that the Yankees would cut off their ears, sell them off north, burn them up, and what not; but they find it is all lies, and they are in the best of spirits, and rejoice beyond measure at our successful progress. We are in the finest country I ever saw, but most too warm for comfortalbe marching in the day time. Water is plentiful, and woods are abundant, so we march a great deal of the time in the shade. But I must close. My love to all, and many respects to all my friends. I send your letter and mother's in the same envelope, as this is the first chance I have had to write for a long time. Write soon, and tell all to do so too.

I gave Mary quite an account of a picket skirmish, on the evening of the 27th. Next morning (Saturday, June 28th), we were called to form line of battle at three a, m., and after awaiting an attack of the enemy, half an hour, retired to our tents. At half past five, heavy firing on our left and front called us out again. We stacked our arms on the color line, and broke ranks, ready to fall in, to move camp. At 8 a. m. our hospital and baggage train moved off, and proceeded in the direction of James river. At ten a. m. the order came to fall in, and we moved to our left, about one-fourth of a mile, and formed line of battle, composed of our whole division, and laid down on our arms, and awaited an attack from the enemy. Porter's Division, who were on our right, had retired the day before, and had recrosscd the Chickahominy, followed by 75,000 or 100,000 rebels. All the day before, we could hear the heavy cannonading across the river, and two of our batteries, near our fort, were playing on the rebels as they crossed, and created great havoc among them. After we had left camp about an hour, the picket line of our division was driven into the rifle pits, and we were held there all day (the Forty-ninth Pennsylvania doing picket duty that day), and the shells began to fall in our old camps thick and fast around us. We lay there all day and all night, waiting for the rebels to come out and charge on our old camps and follow us up, as they would reasonably expect us to cross the Chickahominy, as Porter had done, and follow straight to the rear. We would then have given them an awful enfilade fire, as we had battery after battery planted, ready to receive them should they follow us. But they refused to do it, and at three a, m,, Sunday, we moved to the left, towards James river, and marched some six or seven miles to a place near Savage's Station, on the railroad to Richmond. About three p. m. we moved to the station (Savage's), and commenced to destroy the property there. Vast quantities of hard bread, ammunition, coffee, sugar, salt, rifles and muskets were smashed, and burned in great heaps. I felt almost like crying when I saw the rifles broken across large pieces of railroad iron, and the more so when I remembered how long I had carried the old muskets, and would have given almost anything to have had such arms. At seven p. m., Sunday, the rebels came down, some 10,000 strong, by the railroad, and commenced an attack, which was repulsed with an enormous loss on their side. They had but one gun, mounted on a platform car, but it was charged on by the Irish Brigade, and taken. Their troops were soaked with "gunpowdered whiskey," and came up right to the mouths of our cannon, and were mowed down by grape and cannister by the score. At about nine a. m. they retired, completely repulsed, and our forces began to march again towards the James.

We marched, I should judge, some seven miles, and halted at one a. m., Monday, and laid on the side of the road, and fell asleep as soon as we rested. It rained slightly during the night, and at seven or eight a. m. we moved back to a wood, and formed line of battle, and waited for the rebels to come up in pursuit, which they did about twelve m., and opened with full battery on one of our batteries. They did not dare to attack us with infantry, but kept off at artillery range. This was kept up all the afternoon as long as the daylight lasted, and near evening some of the brigades of Sumner's Division made a charge on them, and took some two hundred prisoners. The enemy lost, last Sunday night, at Savage's Station, some four thousand killed and wounded—our loss a mere trifle; on Monday they lost about two thousand—we as many hundred. As soon as it was dark, Monday night, we moved to concentrate our forces at the division head-quarters, and at ten p. m. moved off towards the James again, and marched some fifteen or twenty miles all night till broad daylight, about four a. m., and lay down to rest on our arms; slept till eight a. m., when we of the Forty-third went on picket, and remained all day by a beautiful mill pond, and at ten p. m. were called in to join our brigade. We were on the side of the road, watching the troops pass by, regiment after regiment, battery after battery, wagon after wagon, hurried on. I watched them some two hours, and got so weary looking at them that I fell asleep, and when I awoke, at four a. m., Wednesday, they were still passing. So many troops, so many batteries, so many wagons, I never saw at one time before in my life. We moved off at six a. m., being the rear guard, and then the rain commenced to pour down. Before we had marched six miles (the extent of our journey), City Point being that distance from us, and on the James river, the mud was awful—full eighteen inches deep. We trudged on, and at ten a. m. we encamped in a cornlield near City Point landing, in mud full two feet deep. The whole plain, for miles near the landing, was covered with troops, but such looking ones—mud from their shoes to their knees, and drenched with rain. We encamped here all night, and, at eight a. m. next morning, moved back two miles from the river, and encamped in an oat field, where we remained till this morning, when we moved forward to a wood, in which place we are now encamped. The marching from City Point, on Thursday morning, those two miles, was the most severe I ever experienced. Mud almost knee deep, small men having to be pulled out many times; shoes drawn off, and buried out of sight. We got through it safely, however, and spent our Fourth of July lying in a place near the woods full of blackberries, in line of battle, and at seven p. m. returned to camp. But I must close. I will give mother an account of some of the incidents by the way, in answer to her letter I received to-day. Much love to all.

We have been moving our camp every day since we reached the James river, and are now about two miles from it. We may have to stay here some time, and we may move on to Richmond, up the James, under cover of our gunboats, and clear the place out. I am ready for anything, move or rest, it makes no difference. Our troops of the army of the Potomac have implicit confidence in McClellan, and all seem satisfied that his movement to the left, has been the salvation of his army. Many rumors concerning him are current here, but I presume they are all unfounded, some to the effect that McClellan and Stanton will both be superseded—Halleck to be placed in command of the army, Scott to be made Secretary of War, &c., &c. They had better reinforce McClellan sufficiently, and then let him try it again. He is by no means beaten, but has made a movement to the left and towards the James, in order to save his army, the only course he could pursue; besides, we have whipped the enemy at every battle, and killed and wounded two of them for one of us. I am glad to hear of the comfortable quarters provided for the sick and wounded at Albany. It must be pleasant at the Albany Barracks Hospital for the soldiers taken there. * * * * I am right glad mother "does as she does," sending the soldiers delicacies, and I can somewhat appreciate the feeling such gifts must inspire in the bosoms of the recipients of them. It is gratifying to us here in active service to know that our comrades are so well cared for in their time of trouble, and I can assure you that it is a great incentive to us to renewed exertions in the field. Those who remember the sick and wounded soldier, and administer consolation and comfort to him in his distress, must feel that they are doing their duty and serving their country full as much as those who face the foe in the grim battle, amid screeching shells and whistling bullets; and so surely as the God of Nations exists, so surely must a blessing from Him be the reward of their labors of love. I was much shocked to hear of Melville Marble's death, but all must die, and an early death saves one from much toil and anguish. Was he prepared? If so, all is well. I sympathize deeply with his family, but many family circles mourn the loss of some who have fallen within one short week; and some, the only one that that circle contained. Who can tell the mourning; that the contest which has continued since the 27th of June has occasioned. Forty-iive thousand reported to have been killed and wounded; fiftteeen thousand of that number accredited to the Federals.

I might tell you of awful sights I have witnessed; of human forms mangled in every conceivable manner; of straggling soldiers shot dead by the dragoons in our forced march, because they would not join their regiments; of the marches by day, and the marches by night; of the destruction of arms and equipments for which we could not provide transportation, although our train of army wagons was over twenty miles long; but you would sicken at the recital of them, and they being now over and gone, the memory and recital of them would do no good. Our regiment, although under hot fire, has been very fortunate, having lost but forty-one in killed, wounded and missing. I myself have escaped any injury whatever, and trust I may come safely through all the contests yet to be endured. My trust is on high, and faithfulness to my duty is my firm intention, leaving consequences with Him who "notes even a sparrow's fall." I send my love to all. Good bye.

We started the 16th of this month, Saturday afternoon, at four o'clock. We brought up the rear of the whole army, the Sixth Maine and Ayres' Battery being the last infantry and artillery to leave the encampment. We marched that night as far as Charles City Court-House. I can not tell how many miles it is from Harrison's Landing or Berkely to the Court-House. You might take a map and examine our course from Harrison's Landing to the camp here. We encamped at ten that evening, and the next morning at six we moved off, and encamped at three p. m., Sunday, after crossing the Chickahominy river, near its intersection with the James, on a very fine pontoon bridge, which had been put together in nine hours, and was as firm and solid as a floor. We encamped on the banks of the Chickahominy, and started at six and a half a. m., Monday. We marched to Williamsburg, and through it, encamping at two p. m. three miles from it. At six and a half a. m., Tuesday, we started again, and marched past Yorktown, and encamped two miles below it, on the York river, at one p. m. Started at five and a half a. m., Wednesday, and marched to Great Bethel, and encamped at eleven and a half a. m. near the battle ground of Bethel. Started at four and a half a. m., Thursday (to-day), and reached this camp at nine and a half a. m. We expect to be encamped here a day or two, and then proceed by transport to—I don't know where. During our entire journey from Harrison's Landing to this place we have had splendid weather, the sun being rather too powerful sometimes, and the dust on some roads being almost stilling. We got along very well, however, and have arrived here safe and sound. * * * * I received Kate's letter, and will answer it as soon as I get a chance. I do not know when this letter will go off, but I hope either to-night or to-morrow morning. My love to all.

The battle field of this last action comprised a large extent of ground, our line of battle running a distance of four or five miles, and along its entire length the dead and wounded were gathered. If I had time now, and the paper, I would give you a detailed account of the movements of our division and corps, since Saturday evening the 6th instant, (on which evening we marched from Alexandria to our camp near Tenallytown), and of our march to this time, where we are encamped within one-quarter of a mile of the Potomac, on the Maryland side of the river. We have driven the rebels out of Maryland completely, compelling them to leave their dead and wounded on the soil of this State uncared for by them. Their rear guard crossed the river yesterday, and last evening, at five o'clock, we reached our present camp.

I am very well, having never enjoyed better health than at present, although I do not feel as clean and comfortable as I would with a good change of clothing. We may follow up the rebel army in Virginia, or lie still for a while. We are prepared for either, although a little rest for a few days would be very acceptable. My love to all at home.

The President's Message meets my hearty approbation; the proposed "compensated emancipation" especially. I trust it will meet with the earnest support of every lover of our Union and of humanity. Should it be adopted, the war, I think, would be materially shortened, and final peace be hastened. I think the doom of slavery approaches, and the end of the war will be the end of its reign.

I cannot but believe that this Republic will pass through its present trials unscathed; and although darkness spreads over it, and every thing looks dreary, yet the sun of freedom and peace will soon arise, and the day of prosperity appear brighter in contrast with the late obscurity. God only knows the suffering and hardships of the soldier, and how welcome would be the tidings that peace was once more restored. Till that good news goes forth, let each stand firm, and the right must be the might. My love to all at home. Write soon to

We crossed the river, Friday morning, and lay in line of battle till Saturday morning, when the engagement commenced in right earnest. We laid in different parts of the field till Monday evening, when the whole army was safely moved back across the river, without the loss of a man. Night before last was a very cold one, and as we had no tents, we suffered some from the cold. We have been without our tents just one week, having only our blankets and overcoats to cover us. But the weather proved uncommonly favorable, and we have all become rather tough; so we do not complain at all of anything we have to suffer; our only murmurings and complaints being against the misfortune which seems to attend our arms.

The carnage attending this last battle was perfectly awful. Hancock's Division went into the light with live thousand men; came out eighteen hundred strong, losing, in killed and wounded, three thousand two hundred men, thirty-two officers killed, and one hundred and fifty officers wounded. I have this account from an aid of the General, who had his horse shot from under him. Our division not being actually engaged with the infantry of the enemy, suffered very slightly. We had to endure a very hot fire from the batteries of the enemy, however, and not a man flinched from his post. The discipline of the army, at least as far as I know of it, is all that could be expected; our recrossing the river in the time and manner we did, could only be done by well disciplined troops.

I do not know what will be done by the army next, but think it must go into winter quarters—for a short time at least. Col. Baker is still absent from the regiment, and I have been in command of it for five weeks to-day. I sometimes think he intends to give me command altogether of the Forty-third, as he has not written a single letter to any officer since he returned the last time. If he does not come back to the regiment soon, I shall give up all hopes of getting a furlough, as the time for it will be in a few days, or not at all this winter. I could not think of asking for one, if I was in command of the regiment—as it would demand my whole attention.

You ask about my horse. He is a large fellow, six years old, iron gray, and can travel very fast. He was the best looking horse I could get from the corral; and although very lean when I got him, he promised to make a fine horse. He is improving some at present, although he has had a pretty hard time of it standing out these cold nights. The army, in a winter campaign, is a very hard place for horses, and many die of exposure and lack of feed and attention. * * *

Our new Chaplln, Rev. Mr. Osborn, has proved himself quite a hero—accompanying the regiment on the field, and going through the shelling quite courageously. He proved of great assistance in the Corps hospital, acting as recorder of all the wounded brought into one of the departments of it, and he has been detailed to go to Washington in charge of a number (ninety) of wounded, thus saving the services of one or more surgeons. He left on Thursday afternoon with his charge, and has not yet returned. He is a worker, and one of the few men I think peculiarly adapted to the service. I have great expectations of the good he will do in his labors in the army, and think him just the man we have been looking and waiting for, for so long a time.

* * * Give my regards to all my friends, and wish them all for me, as I wish all at home, " A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."

. The whole Army of the Potomac, under General Burnside, has fallen back from the Rappahannock, and lies encamped in the vicinity of Belle Plain. Our future course of action is as yet uncertain. We shall probably lie here for three or four weeks, and then I should not be surprised if it would be "on to Richmond" again via James river. I think everything will depend on the movements of the enemy, and the course pursued by Congress this and the next month. Yet I hardly think we shall lie idle longer than one month. If Col. Baker were present with the regiment, I should at once forward an application for leave of absence; but until his return I do not feel at liberty to do it, even were I certain that it would be granted. I begin to fear the possibility of my getting a leave this winter, as I do not hear of any being granted at present.

I am glad that the citizens of Albany are alive to their duty in assisting sick and wounded soldiers. The last battle will fearfully swell the list, and too great efforts cannot be put forth for their assistance. If I could only get my pay, I would send mother my mite to use for charitable purposes; but, you know, we have received no pay from the United States since July, and very soon there will be six months' pay due us. I suppose sixty or seventy dollars could be expended very easily in charity if I should send it home, which I will do as soon as I am paid.

We had twelve men wounded in the Forty-third on the 13th and l4th inst. We were under a very hot fire of shot and shell on both of those days, and it is a miracle that one-half of the regiment were not wounded. This brigade is the most fortunate one, I think, in the whole army, as we have never met with severe loss, although our positions have always been among the most exposed. I can only account for it in the superior generalship displayed by its commander. Our division (Smith's old one), at present under command of General Howe, has the name of being one of the best fighting divisions in the Army of the Potomac. At the last battle our picket line, composed of two Vermont regiments, the Second and Fourth, held in check and fought for over half an hour the combined picket and line of battle of the enemy opposed to us. They fought like lions, and many of them fell dead and wounded. They are no more than a sample of the regiments composing the division. But I must finish my letter by wishing you all at home, and all my friends, a "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year," as I hope this will reach you in time for the first of these holidays. My love to all at home. How much I desire to be with you on Christmas or New Year; but here is my place.

Rumors are current that the Army of the Potomac will not be allowed to go into any permanent winter quarters, but that in the course of a few days this part of it, in the vicinity of Fredericksluirg, will be moved by transports to the James river, and thence to the vicinity of Harrison's Landing or Petersburg, via the Appomattox. I should not be surprised in the least if these rumors should prove true, and that New Year's day would find me on the James, or in the vicinity of the devoted city of Richmond.

Rumors are also current that the entire Cabinet, except Stanton and Halleck, have resigned. This I hardly credit, as I think Secretary Seward would hardly desert the President now, in the time of his need. I think the upshot of the whole affair will be that "Little Mac" will be called to take command of the entire army of the United States, which I do not doubt he would do if it were offered to him, as I think he would do anything in his power to conquer the rebellion, and win for our arms the long looked for success and victory. Although things look gloomy and dispiriting enough just now, I think that He who presides over the destinies of nations, has not yet forgotten us as a Nation, and although through much tribulation, we shall yet enter into a state of perfect peace (as far as peace on earth can be); and that in due time some one will be raised up who will lead us on to victory, and right and justice assert its authority over oppression and wickedness. Although the night still grows blacker and blacker, and not a star, even, seems to illuminate our political horizon, yet I am led to hope that the watchman may soon have to say, "the morning dawneth."

In all our depressions, in all our reverses, when our enemies seem to triumph over us, and destiny seems to frown upon us, then we have one refuge to which we can always flee; to Him who is the same yesterday, to-day, and forever.

I myself, although it seems like hoping against hope, can still say with the old Roman: "Never despair of the Republic." I cannot believe that such a great country as this, such a government, such a Nation, will be permitted to be torn asunder and totally disabled; to be wrecked, and thrown to the winds; to be made the object of mockery of the whole world. I still think that our continued troubles and afflictions are all ordered by the hand of God, and if we will but acknowledge His hand, and bow before His sovereign will, all will be well; and out of the great darkness He will command the light to shine ten-fold brighter than in the days gone by.

For my part, I can only pray that I may do my duty, and that each of those in authority may do theirs; and that the hand of the Almiohty may guide and direct our government, that all things may be done to the honor and glory of God, and that we, as a people, may be brought to say: "Not unto us, not unto us, but to Thy name be the praise and glory."

Then, I think, we shall be victorious, and then we shall see peace and prosperity once more smiling upon us as of old, and we be that happy people whose God is the Lord. That this time may soon come, should be the prayer of all those whose country's cause is dear to their hearts; and for this hope alone, I remain still in the army of the Union, endeavoring to do all in my power to attain the grand object, viz: to crush the rebellion. I confess I did feel somewhat inclined to offer my resignation when I fully understood the condition of affairs after the late battle at Fredericksburg, but upon thinking the matter over, I concluded that at this time, above all others, did it become me to remain at my post, especially as the Colonel of the regiment is, and has been, absent from the regiment upwards of a month, and the command has devolved upon me, which duty I have endeavored to perform to the best of my ability. I trust I have done right in remaining, and that when the war is over, I may look back and say with satisfaction, that "I have done my duty." Happy New Year to all at home, and much love to mother and all my sisters.

I do not know but what you are about right, in relation to my resigning my position in the army, and coming home. I have thought the matter over and over again, and am still considering in my mind, whether I could, or not, honorably resign, and come home; but the more I ponder over it, the more I am convinced that my duty demands my remaining where I am. "Where is your patriotism, of which you felt so proud?" seems a voice within me to ask. "Where is your firmness, your devotedness to the Republic, and its welfare; your love of justice and of freedom?" "Where your veneration for that old Flag, which, in days gone by, floated from every mast-head and from every house-top, from Maine to California?" "What excuse can you give for deserting the standard under which you have willingly enrolled yourself, now in the time of its greatest need?" " Of what benefit to your country have you been, if, after having but just learned to be of use to her, in a military point of view, you throw all your knowledge to the winds by a hasty resignation?" "Have you become so demoralized, that you fear to longer endure the privations and hardships incident to an active campaign, and rather desire to return to your home, to the more agreeable duties of civil life, while those, as little able to endure the burdens of the war as you, remain, and earn for themselves a name which shall endure as long as the Nation exists?" "Do you suppose you have done your duty, your whole duty, and that you could satisfy your conscience, that not a regret or shadow of remorse would cross it, should you be compelled in future days to carefully review your course of action?" "What answer would you make to inquiries—'Why did you resign? what made you leave the army?' "etc.

These, and other questions of similar import, continually arise, to none of which I can make a satisfactory reply; and till I can do so, I shall consider it my duty to remain in the army, not simply to idly remain, but to do my duty to my utmost ability; to rise as high as I can, honorably and fairly; to return home from the war, if God wills, with a conscience assuring me of having done my duty and having given all my power and strength to the support of my country in her hour of need, and having remained true and steadfast to the end. Rest assured, then, I have no intention of resigning, although you well know how much I desire to see you and my sisters again, to spend a few days at home—a place I cannot but hold most dear—and much more so, as I am daily convinced of the uncertainty of life, and the uncertainty of my beholding you all togetlier again on earth. But I hope a way may be opened for me to get home for a few days, and that before long. I will embrace the first opportunity to do so; and till then, ever believe me,

I was making a brief visit to my friend, Gen. Patrick, in the Army of the Potomac, which then lay in its winter quarters on the south side of the Rappahannock river. It was just prior to the opening of the campaign toward Richmond, which resulted a few weeks later in those terrible battles of the Wilderness, in which so many gallant men, and Col. Wilson among the number, lost their lives. I remember that upon the one day of sunshine, out of the rainy ones I spent in camp, I rode out with Gen. Patrick on a brief tour of observation. A young officer from the west, whose name had scarcely been heard in the Army of the Potomac, had just come to assume command of the cavalry corps. My friend called to pay his respects, and we saw for the first time Gen. Sheridan, whose name has since been heard in every civilized land. We visited the head-quarters of the Sixth Corps, then under the command of that prince of corps commanders, Gen. Sedgwick, whom the soldiers fondly called "Uncle John." As we rode away from Gen. Sedgwick's head-quarters, I remember turning to Gen. Patrick and saying: "General, I have been looking all day for fortifications, where are they?" "There they are," said he, pointing to an opposite eminence, on which a regiment was going through its evolutions. " Where," I repeated. "There, those fellows in blue, they are our fortifications. "As we rode past this regiment, its commander galloped up to us. It was Col. Wilson, and this regiment was the Forty-third New York. He took me into his tent, and we enjoyed a delightful chat on our common friends, and on matters of common interest in Albany.

The Albany Bazaar had just closed its triumphant career, and I remember with what delight he showed me the photographs, illustrative of its scenes, which you had sent him. And as he talked there of the dangers through which he had passed in the war with his regiment, and spoke so bravely and hopefully of the coming campaign, which they all knew would be a desperate one, I thought then, and I think now, that I never had seen a more noble, gallant looking officer. And when a few weeks later I heard of his death, it was one of the saddest of the many tales of sorrow which came to my ears at that terrible time.

My recollections of Col. Wilson, at the Albany Academy, are of the most pleasing description. I remember him as a bright little lad, when I first came to the Academy. I believe he had already been a student there several years before that time. Indeed, I suppose his education was begun as well as finished at this institution. His classical training was chiefiy conducted under Prof. Miller, and was, as you may be well assured, extensive and thorough.

Among a class of young men, whose classical reading extended to the Greek tragedies, and included selections from all the principal Greek and Latin authors which are read in college, he was selected as entitled to the Van Rensselaer classical medal; and what was very unusual, he was in the same year the recipient of the Caldwell medal for superior proficiency in mathematics.

As a student, he was a universal favorite with teachers and pupils. He had a manly independence about which commanded respect. He was diligent and persistent in his duties as a student, not easily discouraged, not easily elated, indeed, but working on with a steady purpose and a persevering temper. There were among his compeers young men more brilliant in particular branches, and who acquired with less labor; but there were few who, in a happy balance of faculties, and in careful habits of application, were in the race of scholarship more likely to succeed. He had a natural shrinking from prominence and publicity, and hence I think his more public duties of declamation and speaking at exhibitions, were always distasteful to him.

There were as his cotemporaries in the Academy an unusual number of young men whose character and attainments were notable. I could name many a little older than himself, and many of about his own age, who have already attained in business and professional life, positions of great usefulness and promise. There seemed to be a tone of manliness and earnestness pervading these young men, even during their academic career, which enabled one to prophecy their future integrity and success.

And yet it is sad for me, when I look at this brilliant array of young men, who were cotemporaries of Col. Wilson in the Academy, to see how many have already been cut off. John H. Meads, memorable to all who knew him for the loveliness of his person and character; Orlando Meads, Jr., his brother: Heber Smith, who perished in the war; Richard M. Strong, another costly sacrifice; Edavard D. Walt, James H. Bogart, William H. Pohlman, Alexander B. McDoual, all were his contemporaries, and all are dead. All of them had the brightest prospects in life; they had friends who loved them; they had careers of usefulness opening up before them; and yet all, in their early manhood, have been cut off. To those who, like Col. Wilson, gave their lives for their country, we all owe a lasting debt of gratitude; and it cannot but be a consolatory reflection, even in this great sorrow, and under the sense of your irreparable loss, that his life was sacrificed in his country's cause, and that all posterity will bless his memory.

It has been to many, I doubt not, as it was to myself at times, cause for surprise that John should have felt it to be his duty to leave the dear ones at home to do battle for his country and the maintenance of the Right; but those who knew him best do best know that it was probably the very strength of the temptation to remain at home, and the strong reasons that could be urged in its behalf, that caused him the more determinedly to resist it, from a conviction that all had a duty to discharge in this terrible struggle, and he became

He, more nearly than any man whom I have ever known so well, was described in these lines of Wordsworth:

No purer life, no braver soul, no more manly form, no more constant heart has been offered up since the commencement of this struggle than him whose loss we mourn.

"He was the only son of his mother, and she was a widow," is the touching description given by the evangelist in the case of the young man of Nain, when his body was met by the Saviour; and how often have these words rung in my ears even while your son was living, as I trembled in apprehension of the result, and realized how much of the happiness of the circle at home depended on the preservation of his life. Trembled, too, because I knew he was not the man to save himself from any exposure, for he had deliberately chosen his position, and from it, no consideration of personal danger could for a moment swerve him.

"I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me," said the Psalmist when mourning the loss of a beloved child, and this thought will be your consolation in this your hour of deep affliction. In the beautiful words of Bishop Heber:

May God enable you constantly to repose in the confident faith that "He doeth all things well." For His own wise purpose He has used the young life of your beloved son, so that it has been of more value, than the combined lives of thousands, who have sluggishly plodded out their three score and ten.

Judged by this, the only true test, your son was not cut off with his labor unperformed, but with every duty discharged, and his life-work done. What a precious consolation you must experience as you now reflect that your dear son had early given himself to Jesus, and that, during the remaining years of your pilgrimage, you can look forward, in the full assurance of faith, to the time that you shall join the company of the redeemed ones and receive the welcome of husband and children gone before—part of your inestimable "treasures in Heaven."

That such may be the happy lot of each and all of us, through the mercy and merits of Christ, I earnestly hope and pray; and that God may vouchsafe to you and your dear ones the consolations of His Holy Spirit, leading you in the green pastures, and by the still waters of his grace, and enabling you, though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, to fear no evil, but to find Him with you, and his rod and staff to comfort and support you; that you may find him a very present help in every time of need, is the earnest prayer of

Sometimes there is fear in the minds of Christian friends at home, lest their friends may not maintain their religious character amidst the temptations of army life; and when they are taken away from us, the one source of consolation is in the assurance that they were ready for the great change which has passed upon them. But I can testify, as no one else perhaps is able to do, that John Wilson maintained in the army a worthy Christian character, that he did not yield to its temptations, but that he was as good a soldier of Jesus Christ as he was of his country, and this is saying a great deal for one who was looked up to as the "best field officer in the brigade."

I have not yet learned the particulars of his death, but in relation to this subject I do not need to ask them, for I know how he lived. I know his faith in God; I know his tender conscience; I know his noble heart, and everybody in the circle of his army acquaintance knew his spotless life.

I am not mentioning these things for the sake of praising him—that will not be lacking from other lips and hands—but that you, who are so deeply afflicted in his loss, may, with the greater confidence, apply to him the words of inspiration: "Say ye to the righteous it shall be well with him." I have, since his death, thought of a hundred incidents and habits connected with my intercourse with him, while Chaplain of the regiment, and of one with peculiar pleasure: Whenever we were on the march or in line of battle on Sunday, when no religious services were practicable, he used always to say to me at some time when we halted, "Come, Chaplain, read to the Major and me a chapter or two in the bible," and those little Sunday bible readings are among the most pleasant memories of our intercourse.

He always stood by my side when we had preaching, and his voice was always heard in the song of praise to God at our meetings. No one who knew him there will doubt that he honored his Christian profession, and had a great influence for good with the men of the regiment. We think and talk a great deal of you all, and very much desire to see you. It is the sweetest thought we have in such sorrow, that the parting is not to be long, and that we shall all soon be together at God's right hand.