Jan 3rd ’62 [Friday]. Washington D.C.
My Dear Mother:
It has seemed longer to me since I left home the last time than it did from the time I first came until I went home. The reason, I suppose, is that when I first came, everything seemed new, and when I got settled down with the 2nd Infantry, I had company all the time, for the Government furnished us quarters and we all lodged in the same house, but since I came to the 8th Infantry, it has been entirely different. I board and lodge in the same house where there is nobody else but the man and his wife and a little one, about two months old, who keeps up almost a continual squeak from night until morning. That is the only time I’m in.
I have a very nice little room neatly furnished with bureau, washstands, writing table, and a couple of chairs. It also has a fire place and if I stay here this winter, I shall be fixed very comfortably. I pay fifteen dollars for room and fifteen for board, making it cost me the same as when I was with the 2nd.
I was at the President’s levee on New Year’s Day and had the pleasure of shaking hands with him. He had on a pair of white kid gloves, I suppose when he commenced, but when I saw him, they were about the color of Tom’s kids when he had no gloves. I saw his wife standing by him. I told you I thought she was very near the size of Sarah Meredith but she is not much taller than you and looks as duchy as she well can look.
I’ve been to the Capital several times lately and I’d give about anything to have you all see it. There are more of the finest pictures I suppose that are in America. Several of them are as large as one side of your parlor.
There is a full statue of Washington presented by the Commonwealth of Virginia. The Senate Chamber and House of Representatives I shall not attempt to describe. I couldn’t tell you anything like how they look. But it would be worth while to come here just to see them if you didn’t expect to see anything else.
I hope you all had a merry time of it this Christmas. It was the first one that I ever remember of being absent and I never saw a Christmas that I enjoyed so little.
I have nothing else to write at present so I’ll close, hoping this will find you all well. Please write soon and tell Pa to write for I’m getting impatient to hear from home. I haven’t heard since I came away.
Your affectionate son. W. J. Fisher
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