February 7, 1862, near Centreville, Va.

Things have been very sad here; General and Mrs. Longstreet 
have lost three children to scarlet fever in the last two weeks.  
The little ones died in Richmond, and the General was there with 
them and his lovely wife, Louise. He is obviously grief-stricken, 
and has come around asking me to share my Bible and Prayer Book 
with him.  Such tragedy, it is easy to see why he has turned his 
thoughts over to the Almighty.

The Lord giveth and the Lord Taketh away. I thank the Lord daily 
that our own 5 children have not been touched by fever, and all 
of them are well. So far, all of our children have been healthy, 
a situation very rare.  Most families lose several children, but 
Mary Jane and I have been blessed by the Lord.  He has made us a 
hardy stock! 

Suddenly we are busy in camp, as the army is withdrawing closer to
Richmond.  The Young Napoleon, General McClellan, has a much larger 
Yankee army than ours, and he has been drilling them and equipping 
them since last summer. We are pulling back to near Fredericksburg 
to be closer to Richmond, and to be behind the Rapidan and 
Rappahannock rivers, which will provide us more protection.

Those long months since I joined Longstreet have been very routine,
though General Longtreet's new responsibilities as a division 
commander are much more complicated than when he handled just a 
brigade.  He has to see to the drilling and feeding and equipping 
of 8,000 men and almost as many animals.  Our days are filled with 
administration and paper work, and tedious writing of reports and 
requests for supplies.  For every day we fight or march, there are 
60 days of boring camp routine. 

But our nights, until the General's recent tragedy, have been full 
of fun. My servants and I are the considered the best providers in 
the Army, and any excuse to have a dinner party is good enough.  
General Longstreet and his many friends from the old Army (before 
the war), regularly enjoyed themselves to the point of drunkeness.  
The laughed and smoked and gambled and drank, behavior my fellow 
staff officer, Moxley Sorrel, does not approve of. (Moxley is a 
wonderful fellow and is now our chief of staff, but he needs to 
enjoy himself more.)

But the routines are over as we prepare to go south. Saltron, 
who  has been lacking exercise these many cold days, senses the 
activity, and he is yearning for a little action. We all are.

Mary Jane writes that simple supplies, such as salt and sugar, are
very hard to obtain.  She also notes that our new Confederate money 
is worth less and less with each passing month.  Fortunately, we 
are wealthy and can live through the shortages, but I pray for our 
less fortunate neighbors and friends.

The drums are rolling and the men are forming up and shouldering 
their rifles.  I must mount Saltron and ride on ahead with messages 
to our leading brigade.