distance on the pike, then turned to the right, and halted near a little village called Keezeltown.
At night our regimental postmaster brought me fourteen letters — the first mail for some time.
Received notice from hospital of death of private Robert P. Wynn, of Auburn, Alabama.
He had been married but a short time to the young sister of Robert F. Hall, lately my orderly sergeant, and soon after he joined us he had an attack of pneumonia, which, together with nostalgia (a species of melancholy, common among our soldiers, arising from absence from home and loved ones) soon brought his young career to an end. I must write Mrs. Wynn of his death.
It is a sad duty.
Her brother, Sergeant Hall, an old college classmate of mine, and one of the most gallant and intelligent members of my company, is at home, still disabled and suffering from a severe wound received at Seven Pines, 31st May, 1862.
Our Valley army, under that heroic old bachelor, lawyer and soldier, Lieutenant-