Dear Wife,-

This is a beautiful Sabbath morning and to think that God made it so beautiful for our enjoyment and yet we make ourselves so miserable and those around us, not only we individually, but the people of a nation have brought war upon themselves. God is punishing us for the sin of slavery and the whole nation must suffer. But those here where it was will suffer the most as the country will be destroyed by armed men. I am not feeling well today and as I have no news I will finish this letter again.

I will now try and finish my letter that I commenced a few days ago. I am not gaining any, am very weak and bloat a great deal. I cannot sit up only about an hour at a time. I go out into the dining hall yet for my meals and am provoked when I see what we have to eat and compare it with a table at one end of the hall which is set for the hospital wardens, nurses and other attendants. I have already told you what we have to eat and now I will tell you what I see on the other table. We have no tablecloth on our table. They have a clean white one. The friends and relatives of the sick soldiers you know are making up boxes of provisions and delicacies for them and expect they are getting it, but the sick soldier gets none of it. It is on the table at the end of the hall. There I see roast fowl and roast beef and preserves, pies and cakes, that the very kind attendants think would inspire the sick if they had it, so to save the soldier they eat it themselves. Do you not think they are very kind and generous. George Beebe is not as well,- I think the food we have is not good for him. Alex H. Wells is not as well. He is having erysipelas now. I hope when I write again I will be better.

With love,

R. Cruikshank.