we have only now and then a little spot of snow, and this morning a monster fog has come and settled down on that, and in two hours we shall forget how snow looks, and in two days, if it doesn’t rain, the dust will blow; but no fears but that it will rain, though. But I haven’t said a word about Grandpa. I am so _glad_ to know that he is better and even gets _into the kitchen_; that is splendid, and besides he has had _company_ as well as you all. Ah, ha, I found it out, if none of you told me! Ben Porter came at last!! Please give my congratulations to Grandpa, and _you_ too Julia, for I am writing to you just as much as to Dave, only I don’t know as I said so before. I _forgot_ to tell you--and now if you don’t write me how Adeline and Viola are, I will do some awful thing to come up to you. I don’t justly know what, for if Frank wrote a week he never would tell me. Oh, I had a letter from him last night; said he was over his boots in snow, was going “down east” to Bangor, Dr. Porter’s, etc. I am afraid my trunk and other things are in your way, and I would ask Sally to take the trunk, only that it seems to me that I had best wait until I see what the 4th of March brings about, and find where I am in the new administration, or at least if we have one. If we are to have a war, I have plenty of traps and trunks in this region, and if all comes right and I remain, it may be that some one will be coming South pretty soon without much baggage who would take something for me. How are all the children? I must write to _somebody_ soon; I guess it will be Bub, but Ida isn’t forgotten. She was a faithful little correspondent to tell me how Grandpa was. I shall not forget it of Ida. Can she skate yet? Now, aren’t you going to write me and tell me all the news? And you must remember me to Mrs. Waddington, Mrs. Aborn, and family, and, Jule, you must give my regards to Silas and Mr. Smith, for I don’t wish to be lost sight of by my old-time friends, among all the new ones here. And don’t forget to give my love to Mrs. Kidder and tell me how she is. You had best clap your hands for joy that I have no more room, only to say I am Your affectionate sister CLARA I forgot to cut my draft loose until I had written on the back of it, and then I cut it loose without thinking that I had written; so much for doing things in a hurry, and I can’t stop to rewrite a single word to anybody, so patch up and read if you can. The Sixth Massachusetts left Washington and moved farther south. She tells of her feelings with regard to these men in a letter written May 19, 1861, to Annie Childs. The letter to which she referred as having been written on the same day to Frances Childs, and containing war news, has not been found: WASHINGTON, D.C., May 19, 1861 MY DEAR ANNIE: