To Miss E. S. Gilman, New York, Feb. 23, 1865.

It is said to be an ill wind that blows nobody good, and as I am still idling about, doing absolutely nothing but receive visits from neuralgia, I have leisure to think of poor Miss ——.  I wrote to ask her if there was anything she wanted and could not get in her region; yesterday I received her letter, in which she mentions a book, but says “anything that is useful for body or mind” would be gratefully received.  Now I got the impression from that article in the Independent, that she could take next to no nourishment.  Do you know what she does take, and can you suggest, from what you know, anything she would like?  What’s the use of my being sick, if it isn’t for her sake or that of some other suffering soul?  I want, very much, to get some things together and send her; nobody knows who hasn’t experienced it, how delightfully such things break in on the monotony of a sick-room.  Just yet I am not strong enough to do anything; my hands tremble so that I can hardly use even a pen; yet you need not think I am much amiss, for I go out every pleasant day, to ride, and some days can take quite a walk.  The trouble is that when the pain returns, as it does several times a day, it knocks my strength out of me.  I hope when all parts of my frame have been visited by this erratic sprite, it may find it worth while to beat a retreat.  Only to think, we are going to move to No. 70 East Twenty-seventh street, and you have all been and gone away!  The rent is enormous, $1,000 having been just added to an already high price.  Our people have taken that matter in hand and no burden of it will come on us.  I received your letter and am much obliged to you for writing to Miss ——­, for me; the reason I did not do it was, that it seemed like hurrying her up to thank me for the little drop of comfort I sent her.  Dear me! it’s hard to be sick when people send you quails and jellies, and fresh eggs, and all such things—­but to be sick and suffer for necessaries must be terrible.

To the Same, New York, March 9, 1865.

I thank you for the details of Miss ——­’s case, as I wished to describe them to some friends.  I sent her ten dollars yesterday for two of my friends.  I also sent off a box by express, for the contents of which I had help.  The things were such as I had persuaded her to mention; a new kind of farina, figs, two portfolios (of course she didn’t ask for two, but I had one I thought she would, perhaps, like better than the one I bought), a few crackers, and several books.  Mr. P. added one of those beautiful large-print editions of the Psalms which will, I think, be a comfort to her.  I shall also send Adelaide Newton by-and-by; I thought she had her hands full of reading for the present, and the great thing is not to heap comforts on her all at once and then leave her to her fate, but keep up a stream of such little alleviations as can be provided.  She said, she had poor accommodations for writing, so I greatly enjoyed fitting up the portfolio which was none the worse for wear, with paper and envelopes, a pencil with rubber at the end, a cunning little knife, some stamps, for which there was a small box, a few pens, etc.  I know it will please you to hear of this, and as the money was furnished me for the purpose, you need not set it down to my credit.