George Meade, The Life and Letters of George Gordon Meade, Major-General United States Army
George Gordon Meade, Ed.

[41] and remember what I am, when I reflect on what I might have accomplished if I had devoted all my time and energies to one object, an object where my exertions would have told in my advancement; but, alas, it is useless to speculate on what is passed! It is said that the road to Satan's Dominions is paved with good intentions, and I have no doubt many an acre is covered with mine. It is the better part now to make the most of a bad bargain, and put the best face on it.

You never say anything about Willie¹ in your letters. How does he get on at college? I presume he is with you by this time for the Christmas vacation. I have often thought of him while here, on account of his military mania, and should like to have him here for a few weeks, to give him some insight into the pomp and circumstance. Remember me to him and to Spencer,² who, I suppose, is most an M. D. by this time, ready to kill people on the most approved and scientific principles.

To-day is Christmas. Need I say how I have longed to be with you, and how my heart has beat with the recollections of former happy Christmas Days! Last night I lay for hours on my rude bed, in my tent, with the cold wind whistling around me, and felt warm and happy, as I related to memory the truly happy Christmas Eves I had spent with you. I thought of last year. Do you recollect what a beautiful, clear night it was, and mother and Mariamne³ and myself going out in a cab and making purchases; how thronged the streets were with crowds of happy faces; what hustle and commotion in each house when the bell was rung; what joyous and merry meetings then were held? And, afterwards, at the Major's⁴ to see the interest with which he was putting aside the various presents for each of his children! Alas, poor fellow, like myself, he has but the recollection of these pleasures to support him now! Here nothing is seen or heard but the regular sound of the drum, sending the men to bed, and the shouts of drunken men in the little town adjoining our camp, which has sprung into existence since the arrival of the