It is a letter for his wife by a Major during the Civil War..(½ºÇÇÄ¿º¼·ý ³ª°ÔÇؼ µé¾îº¸¼¼¿ä.......- -)
July
14,1861 Camp Clark, Washington DC
Dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move
in a few days - perhaps tomorrow. And lest I should not be able to write you
again I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I
am no more. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in the cause in
which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how American
Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the government and how great a debt
we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the
Revolution. And I am willing - perfectly willing - to lay down all my joys in
this life, to help maintain this government, and to pay that debt.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to
bind me with mighty cables that nothing but omnipotence can break; and yet my
love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly with
all those chains to the battlefield. The memory of all the blissful moments I
have enjoyed with you come crowding over me, and I feel most deeply grateful to
God and you, that I have enjoyed them for so long. And how hard it is for me to
give them up and burn to ashes the hopes and future years, when, God willing, we
might still have lived and loved together, and see our boys grown up to
honorable manhood around us.
If I do not return, my dear Sarah, never forget how
much I loved you, nor that when my last breath escapes me on the battle field,
it will whisper your name... Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have
caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have sometimes
been!...
But, 0 Sarah, if the dead can come
back to this earth and flit unseen around those they love, I shall always be
with you, in the brightest day and in the darkest night... always, always. And
when the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath, or the cool air
your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me
dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again...
Sullivan
Ballou
was killed a week later at the 1st Battle of Bull
Run.