Augusta: Robert B. Spillman to Amanda C. Armentrout,
January 12, 1865
Summary:
Robert discusses his pleasure in his acquaintance with Kate, remarking on how
close they have become since they first met. He then writes poetically of his
surroundings at Chimborazo Hospital in Richmond.
Miss Kate Armentrout
Greenville
August Co. Va
Jan 12th 1865
Office Chimbo Hosp Richmond
My dear Sister Kate
Again I have the pleasure of responding to your Ever dear & affectionate
letter that reached me to day the perusal of which was done with no little
degree of pleasure. I can not find words to express my self on the present
occasion could I but wield the pen of a novelist, I might passibly be able to
give some faint idea of my high appreciation of your dear letters and the pure
unselfish friendship you have to long & so repeatedly expressed for me
how often in my silent musings does my mind wander back to the days when I had
no knowledge of you, before I was honoured with your
acquaintance & your friendship. how different
were the lonely hours spent then, no fond anticipation lay before me of a day
that would bring with its natural charms a messenger from a dear dear friend in the distance, a letter from you dear Kate. How sad
& still how pleasing are the many changes since first we met, both
combined are truly almost incomprehensible. think, for a moment, but a little
more than a year ago we were as those who had never lived to each other but time
with its
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many changes find us now as it were bonded & bossom friends. how pleasing it is
to me to think that I have the esteem & confidence of a friend so pure,
so noble, as your self. Tis truly an honour not merited by me I can scarecely
realize that one so insignificant as my self should enjoy such pleasures as are
realized from such a pleasing correspondence. Well dear Kate, you had need [added: not] expect a long or interesting letter this
time as my mind is restive it seems that it cant
possibly be concentrated or centered upon any one particular subject. Not
withstanding the present moment is a time when I should feel or rather be able
to produce some sentimental language for now it is about Eleven oclock at night. No sound breaks the stillness of the
night save the constant roar of the rapid waters of the James River as it rushes
madly over the rocky falls wending its way along the winding current towards its
mother ocean. Other than that, all is quiet. The blazing stars shine brilliantly
high up in their orbit while the gentle moon sheds its silvery light over all
nature. Still I cant feel sentimental since I cant find words to express my self to
night. I hope you will excuse my brevity & I'll promise to do
better nex time, but that is a promise that
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I
aught not to make, as I'll be most sure to break it for [added: I] am not endowed with the mental faculties which
enables one to write a communicative or interesting letter. still I am fond of writing, if I cant
interest or give information. I dont exactly agree with
my dear little friend Lou. She seems [added: to]
think that letters should not be written unless it bears important news, or
something cheering or animating but it is not so with me. I like to speak at a
distance with my dear friend through the silent medium of the pen tis truly a
pleasure that I would not be deprived for the world. I could not dispence with such a pleasure while I am blessed with
the power of writing I must profit by it. Well dear Kate the old Bacon Clock has
just told by its lonesome ring the approach of midnight hour, so I must close.
My love to all with a full portion for your self.
Write soon to your fond & affectionately
Robert
