My very dear Sarah:
      The indications are very strong that
we shall move in a few days -- perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should
not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines
that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.
      Our movement may be one of a few days
duration and full of pleasure -- and it may be one of severe conflict
and death to me. Not my will, but thine 0 God, be done. If it is
necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country,
I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in,
the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or
falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon
the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those
who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution.
And I am willing -- perfectly willing -- to lay down all my joys
in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that
debt.
      But, my dear wife, when I know that
with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them
in this life with cares and sorrows -- when, after having eaten
for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer
it as their only sustenance to my dear little children -- is it
weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly
and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling
wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest
with my love of country?
      I cannot describe to you my feelings
on this calm summer night, when two thousand men are sleeping around
me, many of them enjoying the last, perhaps, before that of death
-- and I, suspicious that Death is creeping behind me with his
fatal dart, am communing with God, my country, and thee.
      I have sought most closely and diligently,
and often in my breast, for a wrong motive in thus hazarding the
happiness of those I loved and I could not find one. A pure love
of my country and of the principles have often advocated before
the people and "the name of honor that I love more than I fear
death" have called upon me, and I have obeyed.
      Sarah, my love for you is deathless,
it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but
Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over
me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these
chains to the battlefield.
      The memories of the blissful moments
I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified
to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it
is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future
years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together
and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have,
I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something
whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little
Edgar -- that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do
not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when
my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your
name.
      Forgive my many faults, and the many
pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have oftentimes
been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot
upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this
world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I
must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you
buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with
sad patience till we meet to part no more.
      But, O Sarah! If the dead can come
back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall
always be near you; in the garish day and in the darkest night
-- amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours -- always, always;
and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath;
or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit
passing by.
      Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think
I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again.
      As for my little boys, they will grow
as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little
Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar
will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his
childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal
care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers
his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for
you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.
      Sullivan