13. Harry's Letters, November 1865

Carson Nov 5th 1865

Dear Nellie:

I have been laboring under a mistake in regard to the sailing days of the mail steamers. Instead of taking their departure on the 3d and 18th as during the summer months, they now go on the 10th, 20th and last days of each month; — hence my last written letter which I expected to have lent immortal honors to the Steamship Company by embarking for Panama on my birthday will have to take its chances with this and other common

place letters. I was also mistaken about the manner of conveyance of your last two letters — they came by steamer and not overland, as I first thought they did.

Well, I remained in my office until a quarter apast 12 o'clock on Friday morning by way of watching my old 34th year go out and to catch my new 35th year come in. I confess to my shame that I failed to be impressed with the solemnity of the occasion — and I was unpoetical enough to go to bed and sleep as soundly as if my age was only half of thirty five instead of being

half of seventy! Don't shudder at contemplation of this awful truth. Remember that twice twenty one is forty two— and consider the joys and pleasures of a certain fair fat and forty two year old lady with an old chap of fifty six for her loving "Joe John"!

I find a very touching piece of poetry in an Exchange, entitled "The Lumberman of "Maine" which I clip out and send you. Can't you find some music which will suit it and make it one of your songs? There are noble lines: "With a look of modest and manly pride That made them look tall" —

It reminds me of the warning contained in those lines of Oliver Wendell Holmes' "Song of the Loyal North": --

"God help them if the tempest swings The pine against the palm!"

I feel a thrill that makes me "tall" when I think of the heroism of the men of Maine and remember that you and I were born within the sound of the waters of the Androscoggin. And Nellie, I am proud that I have partly gained the right to love you by earning a soldiers' scars in defense of that old flag which we all love so well. This Republic would

have survived its shocks quite as successfully if I had remained supine and listless in California; but no action of my life gives me so much satisfaction as the ship which I took toward serving my country. I regret having left the service before the final blow was struck, but as you kindly tell me, it was best for my habits that I did.

I am thankful to be able and to be furnished with the means of still serving, to the best of my ability, the same cause with my pen. I can say to you what it would be egotism and immodesty for