October 19, 1863

Bridgeport, Ala.

Dearest,

Yesterday I was lucky enough to get a letter dated the 9th it was nine days on the way. You last said Jamie had begun to recover, but he hadn’t gotten full use of his fist yet. The one didn’t say one word about him and so I must infer that the little fellow is well. I was sorry to find Guy feverish again. How poor his digestion has always been – nuts, acorns and such like he will have to forgo. I suspect he is like his father. My cold holds on unaccountably. I cough pretty hard and raise. The climate is peculiar – fogs on the mountains and along the [illegible] always chilly mornings [...]

Oliver Otis Howard to his wife, Elizabeth Ann Waite [Oliver Otis Howard Papers]


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