Near the Railroad, July 8^th, 1864.

Dear Wife, 

Here I am on picket again. Came on yesterday morning, pretty well round towards that rail road. I should write with clean hands if there was any water near, but it is half a mile to the spring, and we can only spare a man occasionally to get enough to cook with and drink when it is fresh. It is as good water as I ever saw. It is at that house I wrote to you about where I was on, the first time I was on picket. The women and children are all at home and are not molested in the least. People may talk about the women of the south being she-devils and all that. I have not seen many, but such as I have seen say, when they hear firing they only think of the killed and wounded, without reference to which side they belong. There are some that are decidedly Union. They show it pretty plainly.

The way we celebrate the 4th of July has changed.

I read the news from long ago each day, scanning old copies of the Phoenix, and for the last few days (many decades ago), the papers were filled with reports of Fourth of July celebrations. It appears that our earlier celebrations of independence involved more mayhem and being quite independent for the day. It almost seemed a bit more like Halloween, with noise, pranks, costumes, and silliness.

July 5^th. Still in camp. Alvin Stokes came over to see me last evening. Had quite a visit from him. Shall try and see Zopher today if I can find the third, but the different divisions and brigades are moving to get good places for shade and water. Should like to see David Morse and Zopher before I finish this, but it will make it too late to get the letter off today. You asked me if I had a rubber blanket. I bought a light one in Washington and some other things. Have no woolen blanket. Could not carry it if I had. Want to keep as light a knapsack as possible. Have to keep four days rations on hand all the time, and that is no small load. Some throw the rations away and get short, but had rather sweat some more and have enough to eat.