Dearest William Morrison, September 21st, 1861

It has been months since I last saw you and I can not wait to see your face. Times have been quite rough and our money is decreasing by the day. I have taken a job as a nurse in the hospital to help support our family but I don’t know how long I will be able to last seeing the pale, dead faces of some of our closest friends. We have run out of money for soap so my clothes reek of death. Our children have taken jobs as well, Alexander has taken a job as a drummer boy and Abigail works alongside me in the hospital. I worry that our children are growing up too fast. The toll that death is taking on this family is so unbearable that we have all thrown ourselves into our work.

Our neighbors, the Jacksons, are struggling very much, they brought in their second-oldest son John to the hospital last week, he was covered in awful burns from the big fire in the town hall. They laid him down on a cot and left so we could tend to his burns. Abigail and I applied ointment to his burns and left him to rest overnight, but when we returned, we found him dead. The death of the boy took it’s a toll on the entire family, Mrs. Jackson has been in bed for four days straight as she doesn’t have enough energy to get up, the doctors told her she has Typhoid Fever and I worry that she only has a few weeks left to live. They also don’t have enough money for food. Their youngest child looks as thin as a piece of parchment. Mr. Jackson and their oldest son have enlisted in the military leaving their two daughters in charge of keeping their crops alive, running the family’s shoe repair shop, and tending to their sick mother.

I have enclosed a picture of our children, they are very thin but we are surviving. Abigail has asked me to tell you that she misses you a lot and hopes you return safely. We hope the war will end soon so that you can return home to Maryland but until then we will wait longingly for your letters home.

With all of our love,

Sincerely,
Frances, Abigail, and Alexander Morrison