August 1861. From Mary.
Dear Tom,
I take my pen in hand this morning to write to you a few lines, as the mail stage will
come soon.
We are well at present but hear that you are laid up in the Staunton hospital with
measles1. We finally learned about it from letters Sam wrote home. Not one letter came
from you for about three weeks, and we were sick with worry. I forced myself to
search the newspaper casualty list after Manassas, while my hands trembled so I
could barely read the type.
What a relief not to find you there! But then your name was never mentioned in any
letter that came to the neighborhood, and it was not until day before yesterday we got
the news. Ma was especially uneasy. You know she always expects the unspeakable. I
suppose you thought it best not to let us know, but please promise never to do that
again. Truth is always better than uncertainty2. But enough of the measles—I hope that
you’re soon finished with them for good. I reckon when Tish had them, and Ma and Pa
expected us to come down with them next, you never dreamed that you’d catch them
as a soldier. Ma says if your eyes are sore from the measles and it impedes3 writing,
send a message home by someone else.
Shortly after, she shared the most grievous news.
Tom, the very worst things are happening to folks around here. It seems like every
day someone in the neighborhood takes sick and dies. The Roysters’ little Tilly,
Robert, Edward, and Sam were all four taken by the pox last week. Ma called on Mrs.
Royster to offer solace4 for the death of her four little ones, then came home and wept
for hours. The substitute minister at New Jerusalem says he has never preached as
many final services for children and old folks, at least two a week. He says he thinks
as many perish at home as on the battlefield. There are so many new tombstones in the
graveyard5, Mr. Bailey, the stonecutter, says he can hardly keep up with demand.
And do you remember Mrs. Whidbey? Both her baby boy and husband died shortly
after she returned from Frystown, where she nursed her youngest sister Polly
Crawford who was down with the fever. Her nephew Peter was home from soldiering
for a visit with his mother but was not up to the task.
And I heard the most sorrowful news about William Rosen, from over toward
Leonardtown. His wife, mother, father, three children, and his brother have all died
within the month. It was a blessing6 that he was home on furlough when they passed
away. Ma says the Angel of Death is overworked in these times and believes these
terrible losses at home are part of the Lord’s mysterious doings.
I don’t rightly know what to think, but we are doing our utmost—keeping out of
dampness, drafts, and the like. Folks stay to themselves, venturing out only when
necessary, and will barter7 anything for a little eucalyptus8 oil to sprinkle on cloths held
to their noses when they do go forth9. It takes a funeral these days to get them to
church.
Ever your loyal sister, Mary
Even before our first battle in Manassas, sick soldiers streamed by the multitudes down the
Valley to the Staunton hospital. It was no wonder so many fell ill. We all tented for weeks near
creeks10 where we washed our filthy11 bodies and clothes and then drank the scummy water. Tens
of thousands of men urinated and defecated nearby daily. Our First Lieutenant12 Baylor, whose
Lexington family Ma and Pa knew, died of sickness in the early days—without seeing one
serious fight.
August 1861. From Mary.
Dear Tom,
Beards is coming your way soon. He has enlisted13, and he stopped by the house on
Monday before he left for the train. He wanted to tell Ma and Pa that he’d keep eye on
you. And that he’d be sure that you got home safe soon. Pa was grinding at the mill
and Tish was visiting Aunt Ellen, so Ma and I invited him into the parlor14. I think he is
the handsomest man in the county, but in his uniform, I expect he may be the best
looking in the state of Virginia. Except for you, of course! Don’t get a swollen15 head
over that compliment.
Ma went to the kitchen because Mrs. Lucas came by to purchase some eggs, and
Beards and I were left alone, awkwardly avoiding each other’s glance. “We . . . I will
miss you, Jeremy,” I finally said. I confess, tears came to my eyes at the idea of him
going away. It has been so lonely around here without you, and then to have Beards
gone as well was too much. When he spied my wet cheeks, he reached out for my hand
so tenderly. It was the first time. “Will you promise to write regularly, Mary?” he
asked. He looked down, embarrassed to meet my eyes. “I’ve grown so accustomed to
seeing you when I’m visiting Tom. I’ll miss you terribly.” He said leaving Bethel and
me behind would be the hardest thing he’d ever done. That those many times he came
to see you, he was also hoping to see me. To say such, he must have thought he was
going off to die!
I told him, “I had no idea. But for some time now, I’ve dreamed you would like me
as much as I like you. Of course, I’ll write.” His cheeks flushed bright red, and then he
asked if we might be sweethearts when the war is over. My mouth dropped open with
surprise. I must have appeared a moron16, and then a rush of happiness triggered more
tears. But he didn’t care. He reached for my shoulders and then hugged me close. Of
course, I said yes. He was staring so deeply into my eyes that I was forced to reveal
my feelings. We’d just stepped apart when Ma came back into the room. She looked
quizzically at our flushed faces, but I don’t think she suspected anything. Now you
need to take special care of Beards for me. He’s the sweetest, most thoughtful boy I’ll
ever know. I tell you, Tom, I’ve never felt like this before—not knowing whether to be
sad or happy.
While I’ve discovered a sweetheart, Ma and Pa have lost good friends. Mr. and
Mrs. Hogshead, outright17 opponents to secession, won’t speak to the Lucas’ or the
Beards, and Mr. Hogshead won’t even tip his hat for Ma and me. The Callistons are
just as bad. Reverend McIntyre, who has shocked much of our congregation by
preaching abolition18 from the pulpit for the past month, has packed up his wife and
children and headed north to stay with relatives in Pennsylvania. The priory sits
forlorn and empty these days without the McIntyres. There’s a call out for a new
preacher, but I don’t expect anyone will answer it soon.
Please remind Beards to let me know how things are going with him. I promised to
write him regularly, but he needs to hold up his end of the bargain too.
Your loyal sister, Mary
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收听单词发音
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1
measles
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n.麻疹,风疹,包虫病,痧子 | |
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2
uncertainty
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n.易变,靠不住,不确知,不确定的事物 | |
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3
impedes
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阻碍,妨碍,阻止( impede的第三人称单数 ) | |
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4
solace
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n.安慰;v.使快乐;vt.安慰(物),缓和 | |
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5
graveyard
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n.坟场 | |
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6
blessing
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n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
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7
barter
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n.物物交换,以货易货,实物交易 | |
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8
eucalyptus
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n.桉树,桉属植物 | |
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9
forth
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adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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10
creeks
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n.小湾( creek的名词复数 );小港;小河;小溪 | |
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11
filthy
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adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
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12
lieutenant
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n.陆军中尉,海军上尉;代理官员,副职官员 | |
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13
enlisted
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adj.应募入伍的v.(使)入伍, (使)参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 );获得(帮助或支持) | |
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14
parlor
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n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
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15
swollen
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adj.肿大的,水涨的;v.使变大,肿胀 | |
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16
moron
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n.极蠢之人,低能儿 | |
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17
outright
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adv.坦率地;彻底地;立即;adj.无疑的;彻底的 | |
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18
abolition
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n.废除,取消 | |
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