DEAR MOTHER:
This is a fine morning and the 29th. of January, 1863. How the time flies. Your last letter came day before yesterday. I am awfully glad father had such good luck killing deer. You will have plenty of good meat for the winter. You wish I could have a taste along with you. You bet I do too, but it can't be, so we must not think of it. We came close to a row with the 30th regiment yesterday. The Colonel in command of a squad came down to put some of our boys in the guard house. The word spread like wild fire and a rush was made for the barracks where the boys were taken, and it took but a minute to get them from the 30th men and the 30th Colonel was glad to get back to his regiment. The boys are threatening revolt against the commissary. Our meat and bread is a fright and a big share of the men in both regiments are ripe for mischief. I get a lunch nearly every day at a little grocery just outside the fence. I get a glass of cider, a handful of crackers and a nice piece of Swiss cheese for ten cents. They are Swiss Germans that run the grocery and the girl that clerks has the blackest hair and eyes I ever saw. She has been in this country three years and talks very good English. She has a brother in the Swiss army and when she brags the Swiss soldiers and how much nicer they are than we Yankees, she shows the prettiest white teeth as she smiles.

There is a rumor that we are to be paid soon, anyway before we go South. Rumor is such a liar we don't know what to believe. It is quite sure we will be assigned to the Southwest somewhere. Perhaps to Vicksburg, where the rebs are making a grand stand, perhaps to post duty on some of the river points. Some of the boys pretend they would like to smell gun powder on the battle line before the war ends. I suppose they feel that way. I am learning some things. I find that men who talk the most are not always the bravest.

The news from Washington is bad. McClellan with his big army has gone into winter quarters instead of making an aggressive campaign toward Richmond. Gen. McClernand is doing far more good work than all the rest. Some of the boys are dreaming of home and a good time pretty soon, but the Richmond papers talk like the south was just beginning to wake up. Lots of poor fellows will bite the dust before the end yet.