Martinsburg, October 19, 1862.
I have spent a busy Sunday, superintending the destruction of the railroad here, and will spend what little remains of the day in writing you a short note. It is a bad chance for a letter, as I write on my pocket-book resting on my knee. I received your letter of the 9th ult., and was glad to hear from you. I felt to-day as though I were at my old trade—destroying the railroad—which I was at eighteen months ago. Last week we thought there was a chance for another battle, as it was reported the enemy was advancing. But it turned out to be only a scouting party. With that exception, we have had a very quiet time.