I deeply regret that his leaving this place prevented my nursing him throughout the malady. Care does more than doctors, and he had great confidence in my nursing. * * * I am tired and grieved, having been now twenty-one days and nights by the bedsides of the sick (last night was my first night passed in bed)—grieved on account of the death of your brother, who was the only officer that ever showed me any kindness since I first came here. I wish I could say that they had not been positively inimical and cruel. But your brother’s arrival put an end to all that. I am much afraid that the old system will soon again be in force.

Fort Jefferson, January 15, 1868.

H. L. Stone, Esq.—Dear Sir: Your always welcome letter of the 22nd of December was duly received, and, believe me, I appreciate and reciprocate your kind expressions of regard. I owe to your friendship the knowledge imparted to Gen. Basil Duke that the heavy restrictions placed on me for no fault of mine by former commanders had been removed by the humanity of your poor brother, and I am happy to say that the present commander, Maj. Andrews, walks in Maj. Stone’s steps. As long as our conduct is good, we need fear no punishment. I was rather afraid when I read in your letter that you had published mine to you. I do not know what I wrote, but believe that you would not have done so if I had said anything unguardedly which might get me into trouble. This is not to be wondered at when I tell you that I was shut up in a close dungeon for ten months, every orifice carefully stopped up except one for air, denied speech with any one, light, books, or papers. I could neither write nor receive letters. I was gagged twice, tied up by the thumbs twice, three times drowned (I am not exaggerating), and all this for having written an account to a friend of some punishment inflicted on soldiers and prisoners here, and the bare truth only, which statement he (Gen. Johnson) published in the New York World. I fear, therefore, giving publicity to anything; not that I am afraid of Maj. Andrews (I have really not a fault to find with him), but tigers have claws and sometimes use them.

It was gratifying to hear that your poor little orphan nephew arrived safely at his maternal grandfather’s. I knew little of the child, but from what I heard he was a very shrewd one. He was too young to feel his loss deeply. I have two cypresses which I am taking care of (they came from Havana) and mean to place on Mrs. Stone’s grave, which is on an island about a mile from this.

Maj. Stoner’s bridal trip was nearly turned into a funeral. (I forget that instance. I wrote him something about it. Perhaps some of you remember Maj. Stoner’s bridal trip when he married Miss Rogers. He had some trouble with the conductor. I forget now what it was.)

What a savage the conductor must have been! The Major wanted two or three of his command to be near him at the time of the assault.

Basil Duke and Charlton Morgan write that they are busy enlisting in my favor all the influence that they can command—Mr. G. Pendleton and others. I have also a very good letter from a Mrs. Bell, of Garrettsville, Ky., wife of Capt. Darwin Bell, who promises that Garrett Smith and some other friends of hers will interest themselves to procure my release. She read in some local paper an extract from, I suppose, my letter to you, and she says: “My husband, who bears a kindly remembrance of you in the war, and myself, felt ashamed to sit over our happy fireside whilst his old comrade was wearing out his life in captivity, and we determined to work until we obtained your liberty.” I have also a letter from Mr. S. M. Barlow, of New York, a prominent Democrat and friend of Mr. Johnson’s. He had written to the President and to Gen. Grant, but had received no direct answer; but Montgomery Blair, whom he had commissioned to see the President, says: “I have seen the President for Grenfell. He has promised to try to pardon him, although he says there are several hard points in his case.” Yes, the case is full of hard points, but they all run into me. The hardship is mine. I do not build much on all this, and yet if a regular system of petition was gotten up by many influential parties at once the President might yield. I wish that my friends by a concerted movement, combined with the Archbishops of Ohio and Missouri, R. C., would petition His Excellency. Bishop Quintard, of Tennessee, would, I am convinced, willingly help an old friend and comrade. But, alas! I am in prison and can combine nothing.

I shall be happy to receive your scrawls, as you call them, whenever you have time to indite one, although I can offer you nothing but wails and lamentations in return.

Whilst you are blowing your fingers’ ends from cold, I keep close to an open window with one blanket only, and that oftener off than on. I have tomatoes, peppers, and melons in full bloom. Salad, radishes, and peas and beans at maturity in the open air, of course. In fact, I am obliged to use sun shades from ten to three all through the garden, for be it known to you they have turned my sword into a shovel and a rake, and I am at the head of my profession here. What I say or do (horticulturally) is law. Other changes than this are made here. A learned physician, Dr. Mudd, has descended to playing the fiddle for drunken soldiers to dance to or form part of a very miserable orchestra at a still more miserable theatrical performance. Wonders never cease, but my paper does; so I will simply wish you a happy New Year and subscribe myself your sincere friend,

G. St. L. Grenfell.