deeply sympathise with it, and in the lone hours of the night I groan
in sorrow at his captivity and separation from you. But we must bear
it, exercise all our patience, and do nothing to aggravate the evil.
This, besides injuring ourselves, would rejoice our enemies and be
sinful in the eyes of God. In His own good time He will relieve us
and make all things work together for our good, if we give Him our
love and place in Him our trust. I can see no harm that can result
from Fitzhugh's capture, except his detention. I feel assured that he
will be well attended to. He will be in the hands of old army officers
and surgeons, most of whom are men of principle and humanity. His
wound, I understand, has not been injured by his removal, but is doing
well. Nothing would do him more harm than for him to learn that you
were sick and sad. How could he get well? So cheer up and prove
your fortitude and patriotism.... You may think of Fitzhugh and love
him as much as you please, but do not grieve over him or grow sad."

From Williamsport, to my mother, he thus writes of his son's capture:

"I have heard with great grief that Fitzhugh has been captured by the
enemy. Had not expected that he would be taken from his bed and carried
off, but we must bear this additional affliction with fortitude and
resignation, and not repine at the will of God. It will eventuate in
some good that we know not of now. We must bear our labours and
hardships manfully. Our noble men are cheerful and confident. I
constantly remember you in my thoughts and prayers."

On July 12th, from near Hagerstown, he writes again about him:

"The consequences of war are horrid enough at best, surrounded by all
the ameliorations of civilisation and Christianity. I am very sorry